


Substance Undetermined

by Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angry Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean, Dominant Castiel, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Implied Crowley/Kevin, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Possessive Castiel, So much angst, Sorry!, Top Castiel, i guess, there just won't be a sequel, well this one is finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew/pseuds/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. After years without contact, Dean suddenly gets invited to move in with Sam. However, when he gets there he finds himself getting stuck in a dark world he wants nothing to do with. No-one can be trusted, everyone's morality is questionable - eventually, even Dean's... Destiel slash, little bit of Sam/Ruby, Sabriel later in the story. More tags will be added along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate episode 200 (two days late), here's my newest fic! (This is basically what happens when my roommate puts on Candy Shop by 50 Cent. I don't like the song, but the clip made me think "Ooh, I can write another dark Destiel fic partially set in a house like that!") So warning: this'll get dark. I have a vague idea where this is headed, and I can tell you already that there'll be drugs, smut, angst, dubious consent, and a dark side to all major characters in this story. Perhaps some kinky stuff in the smut. You're more than welcome to send me requests for some small details you would like to see happening ;) Sabriel will come quite late in this story, just so you know. The focus is really Destiel when it comes to pairing. And other than that, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: FFS No I don't own Supernatural now stop reminding me of it!!

They had been driving all evening, and it was already past midnight when the dark outline of Sam's place came into view.

A soft whistle escaped Dean's lips. "Dude, did you buy this place off the Addams family?" Sam sighed. "Just drive up the lane, Dean."

The house was… Well, it wasn't really something you could consider a house. More a mansion. A freaking haunted mansion by the looks of it. It really had the whole shebang, greyish green surroundings, overgrown lawns, fog, wrought-iron gates that opened on their own, Victorian style creepiness, all that good stuff. If Dean had ever seen the clip of Candy Shop by 50 Cent, he'd be seriously disturbed by Sam's living preferences.

Well, even more than he was now.

He parked the Impala at the front door, next to the overgrown half-crumbled fountain. "Seriously, Sammy, why this dump?" His sasquatch of a brother shrugged. "It was surprisingly cheap, you know. And the inside is actually in pretty good condition." "Yeah, well, whatever you say, Wednesday," Dean muttered.

Suddenly the front door opened, flooding the area with a warm yellow light and nearly blinding Dean. Sam just got out of the car, his arms wide.

"Hey boys," it sounded from the doorstep. Dean squinted. "Ellen? Is that you?" His younger brother had already given her a friendly hug. "Well if you get out of that car, Dean, you'll be able to come up and see for yourself."

Dean quickly followed his brother and hugged the woman that had been like a mother for the bigger part of his life. "What are you doing here, Ellen? I thought you preferred staying independent from Sam's stuff."

Ellen gave a bitter smile. "Yeah, I did say that didn't I?" "The Roadhouse burned down," Sam remarked as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Ellen winced slightly while Dean just stared at him with his mouth open. "Dude, discretion?"

The younger brother's gaze flicked to the woman next to him, but he didn't show remorse. Ellen shook her head. "It's fine, Dean. Me and Jo didn't have anywhere to go, so Sam offered us a place here. We work to earn our keep, and to be fair, it's quite doable. I mostly deal with the other staff here while Jo just makes sure everything stays up and running. And at least I don't have to deal with money business anymore."

Dean nodded, but he still gave her hand a small squeeze, which was answered by a grateful nod.

"Now let's get you boys inside before you catch pneumonia in this fog," the woman spoke gruffly, but with fondness in her voice. "There's steak and potatoes waiting for you." Dean could feel his mouth water as his stomach rumbled, and he quickly followed his nose, even though Ellen was supposed to lead the way.

Sam gave Ellen a quick nod. "Sorry, Ellen, but you know the drill." She nodded back. "'Course. I'll send someone up."

Dean raised his eyebrows as his younger brother walked away and up the grand staircase. "So where's the Samsquatch going?"

"Oh, he usually goes up to his study to do some work, phone someone or sort out some bills or whatever. Most times he doesn't join for dinner, I just have someone bring it up to him."

Dean huffed. "Typical," he muttered.

Sam had walked out on the family as soon as he had hit eighteen, dropped off the grid and by the time he showed up again he had a shit-tonne of money and no clear explanation as to how he had gotten it. He was still in the business, and he really was quite ruthless at it apparently. But it had changed him a little as well.

As a kid he had been fine with being a bit more isolated and just reading a book while other kids were playing. Nowadays he actively isolated himself. And even though Dean had sort of been half-expecting it, it still managed to piss him off slightly. After all, he was a guest here. And his host had just fucked off. Not just his host; his younger brother.

Such a lovely family.

Ellen led him into the kitchen, where the smell was truly  _amazing_. She called forward the scrawniest guy in the universe, his ears sticking out to the sides, a tired but goofy smile on his face. "Garth, could you please go up and give Sam his dinner? You can go to bed after that." The guy nodded, took the plate, greeted Dean with a quick "Hey, other Mr. W" and disappeared through the door.

Ellen sat herself down with a sigh and dragged a plate towards herself, indicating that Dean should do the same. "It's good to see you again, Dean," she said between two bites. He gave her a smile. "You too, Ellen. But why didn't you eat earlier?"

She shrugged. "That's just how it goes when you have to look out over a household. You continue working until past midnight, have dinner around twelve-thirty, go to bed and get up again at five-thirty. And that every day, even Sundays."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Commitment." She laughed harshly. "Nah, it's just the job. But like I said, at least I don't have to stare at bank balances anymore. Now that was a pain, I can tell you."

Dean nodded. He understood that, having worked at a snobby company himself. He had actually been seated quite far to the top, but eventually it just became too much and he snapped. He quit his job the same day and never looked back again.

That was, until the absence of money started to really stick out.

But he refused to go back, and when he told Sam all about it, he was (pleasantly? He actually didn't have a clue) surprised to find himself invited to go and have lunch together. They had spent all afternoon talking, and in the end Sam had somehow convinced him to just drive back to his apartment together, gather the most important stuff and then leave everything behind to move in with his little brother, perhaps temporary, perhaps not. Sam had called ahead to make sure a bedroom was ready, and five hours later they had arrived.

He was about to get up from the meal they had been sharing in comfortable silence when a young woman with sleek blond hair and scars all over her right cheek walked in. Dean had to do a double-take before he recognised her.

"Jo?"

Her face lit up in the most radiant smile. "Hey, Dean!" He quickly got up to give her a hug, then sat back down.

His eyes settled on the rippling skin on her cheek and he swallowed. "Seems I've eh… missed quite a lot."

"Yeah, you could say that," Ellen retorted dryly. "Jo, you were supposed to be in bed two hours ago. What are you still doing up?"

Jo smiled again at Dean, and it made her scars almost look invisible. Almost. "I heard Dean was coming, so I had to stay up, of course."

She now turned her attention back to Ellen again. "Garth came to my room to tell me he arrived. He also asked me to pass on the message that Sam wants to host another party in three days."

Ellen's face hardened a little. "Formal or informal?"

"Formal. He wants more funding, and he wants to introduce certain people to each other. You know the profits he gets from that."

She loosened up again, but only a little. "No I don't, Jo, and neither do you." She gave her daughter a stern look until Jo averted her gaze and nodded. "Okay, well, ask him if he has a list of guests yet, or at least an idea of how many he's inviting. That'll give us an idea of what to do with our preparations. As long as he doesn't come up with it all on the same morning, we should be fine."

Jo stretched and went over to kiss her mother on the cheek. "You can go to bed, mom. I'll show Dean his room and do the dishes after."

Ellen gave her a grateful hug before getting up. "Goodnight, Dean. Don't make it too late, Jo."

Jo and Dean uttered their goodnight's and left the kitchen. Jo led Dean up the stairs and down the hallway. There was no carpet to cover the dark wooden floorboards here, which he saw as a small disappointment, but hey, at least he could slide down the hall on his socks if he felt like it. What? Was Dean not allowed to be so childish? Tough. Everyone needs some youthfulness every now and then.

His room was halfway along the hallway. Jo pointed at two doors at the end, noting that those were Sam's study and bedroom, and Dean should probably just stay out of them.

They entered his room. It was quite spacious, but not huge. The bed was king-size, so that was good, and though all the wood was quite dark, it was contrasted by lighter coloured sheets, pillows and covers on the chairs.

Dean sat down on the bed, noticing that his suitcase had already been brought up. Jo went and sat down on the chair opposite him.

For a moment both of them were silent, until Dean finally spoke up.

"Jo, your face, I'm sorry…"

She shook her head. "It's okay, Dean. Really. It's not your fault. It can actually be quite useful at times, when Sam throws a party with slightly… less decent guests. They don't want to force themselves on me as much as they would without the scars." She swallowed. "Besides, you haven't seen mom's yet. Her back was almost completely stripped of skin."

Another silence fell between them. Then Jo finally seemed to snap out of wherever her mind was, and gave Dean another warm smile. "So, what are you gonna do here, Dean? I mean, you can't sit inside all day and do nothing."

Dean shrugged. "Don't really know yet. But I'm gonna talk to Sam about it tomorrow, see what I can do to help out, learn my way around the business he does." He gave her a quick glance. "You don't happen to know what it is, do you?"

At this, Jo suddenly looked a lot more cautious. "I don't," she answered, but somehow Dean felt like she was lying. Why would she lie? What was she hiding?  _What the hell was going on here?_

Before he could say anything else though, Jo quickly got up. "Well, it's good to have you around, Dean. Goodnight." She bent forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. But right before she pulled back, she whispered: " _The rooms are bugged_."

When she pulled back she could see Dean's shocked face and she gave him a quick frown –  _cameras as well_. He quickly blanked his expression. "Yeah, 'night Jo."

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Dean got up and started undressing. It was too damn late and he had been driving for a while and he just wanted to  _sleep_. But apparently he had landed himself with a crazy-ass brother with some weird mafia-vibe who seemed to be intent on watching everyone's every move. Now that was just  _wrong_. What if Dean wanted to have some private fun? Was he supposed to find some corner of the bathroom where he couldn't be seen? Jeez, this was like Big Brother. But worse. Because Big Brother turned out to be his own little brother.

Yeah, with all those thoughts churning in his head, sleep would most likely be a rare luxury tonight.

Christ, what had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was as lonely in his breakfast as he had been in his dinner the previous night. It wasn’t that he minded being alone, it was just  _rude_. But then again, something told him that there were more dark sides to Sam these days than just rudeness. And he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to find out about them.

It took him ten minutes before he had found Ellen. She was talking on the phone with someone about ordering champagne, but when she saw Dean she took a moment to tell him he could try and talk to Sam  _if_  he remembered to knock. Otherwise he’d be in a world of trouble.

_ Fan-fucking-tastic. _

Dean felt as if  _he_  was the younger brother here. And it really fucking sucked.

He walked back up the stairs to Sam’s office. For a second he pondered on whether or not to press his ear against the door and check if his brother was busy, but then he remembered the cameras Jo hinted at and decided against it.

He straightened his back  _(what the hell, this wasn’t some job interview, it was his own freaking little brother)_  and knocked on the door.

For a moment Dean didn’t think he would receive an answer, but then Sam’s voice sounded. “Come in.” So he did.

Okay, so maybe the past ten hours had managed to influence his imagination a little, but he was slightly disappointed when he didn’t find Sam in a big dark leather chair, staring at screens with the images that were recorded by the cameras while stroking a cat that was lounging on his lap.

Instead, it was quite a light and modern room, almost too clean. It had a clinical feel to it, which Dean found more unsettling than a dark and stereotypical evil lair. That image would have felt cartoon-like, something he wouldn’t have taken seriously. And maybe that’s why he was disappointed. It would have shown that Sam was just messing with him. This, on the other hand… This reminded Dean of psychopaths. Real psychopaths.

And wasn’t that infinitely worse?

Sam looked up from the papers he had been sorting through. “Oh, Dean,” he stated as if he had just pointed at a boulder and had said  _yes, that is indeed a rock_. It kind of stung.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Dean spoke up, trying to make himself sound as casual as possible. Sam shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I can spare a few minutes of my time.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting a list of guests together for the party I’m throwing soon. Ellen requested it.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, the silence between the two men felt tangible, painful almost. Then Sam spoke up.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

_ Eh… _  Dean’s mind had gone completely blank.  _Well wasn’t that just great._

His younger brother let him hang like that for half a minute before speaking up again.

“I haven’t got all the time in the world, Dean. I need to get back to work in a second.”

“Yes!” Dean almost shouted. “I mean, no! I mean yes! Eh, sorry. I was gonna ask you if you had anything for me to do while I’m here. You know. I can’t just hang around all day.”

Sam nodded. “You’re right, you can’t.” God, that just sounded like he was worried that Dean would start exploring and finding out stuff he shouldn’t. And maybe that was the case. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for Sam to continue.

The younger man turned back to his desk and shuffled his papers. “Let me see…” He did this for a minute or so longer. Dean would’ve felt more comfortable if he would occasionally mutter to himself, but Sam was completely silent, every move carefully calculated.

Eventually he straightened himself in his seat again. “Sorry Dean, right now I don’t have anything lying around that you can help me with. However, you can be of some use at the party.”

_ Of some use. _  Ouch.

“Since you might get bored in the meantime, the library is in the East wing. If you’re worried about getting lost, you could easily ask any of the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have some work to do.”

And that was that.

Slightly baffled, Dean walked out of the office. That hadn’t even been a conversation. No talking, no negotiation, no  _Hey Sammy, how are you, I know we talked yesterday but you said zilch about yourself and let me do the all the talking, so I was wondering where the hell you’ve been and what you’ve been doing_.

To be frank, he was just getting more and more creeped out and felt like he knew less and less.

And now he wanted to investigate. But he couldn’t; every move was being watched.

Or that was what Jo said.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jo. He just hadn’t seen any proof of it yet.

Screw the library; first thing on his agenda was finding the cameras and mics that were supposedly hidden in his room.

~666~

_ Or not. _

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unless Sam or his handymen were extremely good and had used the tiniest equipment, there was nothing to be found.

And yeah, sure, there was the possibility that Sam had bought the most expensive equipment to bug the entire house with, but that on its own cost a fortune – and for what? Besides, it all sounded so farfetched.

So if that wasn’t the case, that meant Jo had lied. Or been misled.

But  _why?_  And how?

Dean was seriously getting a headache from all of it. Maybe he  _should_  go to the library. It would be a welcome distraction.

He managed to find Garth in the kitchen. On their way to the library the boy kept chattering about something he had seen on TV about werewolves, his favourite supernatural creatures apparently. Dean let him; it felt oddly normal and comforting.

The fact that he needed that right now might say something worrying about the atmosphere in the house.

The library was huge. Honestly, it was ridiculous. It wasn’t like you sometimes saw in films, a few bookcases around a chair and a fire. No. This was more like an actual library, rows upon rows of bookcases, lit by dim fire-like light. It managed to make Dean smile again. Somehow it showed him that there was still a part of the old Sam that he once knew left, a part that adored books and could spend hours in this room reading when he managed to find the time.

Dean walked past the shelves. Everything was labelled and organised. It was book heaven for anyone who dreamt of having their own collection.

Eventually he settled for the Lord of the Rings. He had read it before of course; in fact, he had read it to Sammy whenever the younger brother had been ill. He needed the good memories and comfort this book would bring him right now.

By the time he finally looked up from the pages, he was starving. And no wonder; the sun had already gone down almost completely. He’d missed lunch. Had it been summer, he would’ve missed dinner as well, but instead it was half-way through October and it couldn’t be much later than half-six.

He wanted to go to the kitchen again, but Jo ushered him into the dining room where to his surprise Sam was actually sitting and waiting for him.

The younger brother smiled. “Hey Dean,” he greeted. “I’m sorry I was so blunt earlier today. I wanted to make it up to you, so I thought we could have our dinner together.”

For a moment Dean was completely stunned. It didn’t take him long to clear his mind though. Something about Sam’s smile felt genuine, and it felt like he hadn’t seen that in ages. He smiled too and sat down next to his little brother. They were quickly joined by Ellen, Jo, Garth, and three more members of staff who introduced themselves as Charlie, Ash and Meg.

The conversation quickly splintered into groups. Ellen and Meg talked about the last party that had been hosted and how they could improve in the smoothness of running the next one, Jo and Garth managed to make their conversation 90% Fairly Odd Parents quotes, and Charlie and Ash delved into a conversation that involved mostly technobabble, Battle Star Galactica and the classic Star Wars vs Star Trek discussion.

This left Sam free to talk to Dean. The younger brother gave a wide smile. “I know I said it yesterday, but I really did miss you, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, please, enough with the chick-flick moments.” But he smiled nevertheless. Everything suddenly felt so normal and familiar again. For a moment he forgot about the creepy house and the creepy behaviour he had seen of its residents. He was just sitting in the dining room, having dinner with his little brother and some friends.

“So, Sammy, what did you in the past few years? I mean, even if this place is cheaper than average, it still can’t be easily affordable.”

Sam smiled and directed his gaze to his plate, humbled by the suggestion that he was loaded. “Oh, you know, money business,” he said as he put some food in his mouth. “Marketing and stuff like that. It’s what I host these parties for, you know. Getting people to meet each other, creating a network, getting more interested parties for the merchandise I help to sell.”

“What kind of merchandise is that?” It wasn’t that Dean would normally be terribly interested, but Sam was being vague, and that worried him. His little brother couldn’t be both his old happy self and the cold distant person he had been this afternoon. That just wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right.

Sam just waved his hand in a vague gesture.  _Fantastic. More vagueness._  “Hell, I don’t even know most of the time. I just need to make sure the word on the product spreads amongst people. Those parties are really good for that.”

“So what about the informal parties?”

The entire table fell silent, except for the suddenly horribly  _loud_  clattering of Sam putting his cutlery down.

“What do you mean, informal parties?”

Dean swallowed. Sam still seemed to have a little bit of that happy version of himself somewhere, but his face had become cautious. Suspicious.

“It’s just a, eh, something I thought I had heard someone mention. I don’t even know who, I just, I heard it – I think…”

It was silent for at least three minutes – the most excruciating three minutes of Dean’s life. Then, finally, Jo raised her hand.

“Sorry, that might have been my fault I think. I asked mom if I should inform after the party.”

It was silent for another few seconds, but then Sam smiled. “Of course. I got confused there for a moment.”

The conversation quickly drifted off to casual nonsense again, but Dean could still feel the tension, the threat. But the one thing that worried him most was Sam. He was the one radiating the threat, but the tension in the air also came from him as well as the other people. And Dean really didn’t know what to make of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this story has only just started, but I can already say (even though I haven't written many chapters yet) that it'll be a bit of a rollercoaster (hopefully). And I wonder who you guys think the biggest bad guy will be in this story. You can see the list of characters, so please, throw some names at me! (Though if you've read my fic Purity regained, or just the summary of the story, you'd probably know that in my world there is no such thing as a standard villain... Just like in the show, where even Lucifer is known as "misunderstood".) Anyway, please, review, send requests, I'd love to hear from you :) And have a nice day!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean quickly hid in his room after that. He didn’t want to face any of the people who worked here after that major fuck-up. And if he was honest, he was terrified of Sam as well, painful as that was to admit.

And curious as he was about the secrets within this house, it was a matter of doing what he always did and go pull this place apart, or put his stubbornness aside to protect Ellen and Jo. He knew he could hold out this night, but the next morning wouldn’t be as easy.

Luckily his immune system decided for him, making sure he was glued to his bed with the flu. Garth was the one to bring him his food, something he was very grateful for – at least there was less emotional manipulation there than there would be with Jo. The guy barely said anything, which was probably because he was under orders, but Dean was too ill to drill him anyway.

Though he couldn’t exactly leave his bed without feeling like he would hurl, he could still hear people shuffle around as the party approached. Dean knew he had one of the guest rooms, which meant there were more guest rooms around him, so there had to be people staying over beforehand.

And that’s where being bed-ridden became a pain again. Because why would your guests stay over before the party? To talk. Have meetings. And Dean would willingly give his left hand right now to get out of that bed and eavesdrop. He had to find out what was going on. And he  _fucking couldn’t_.

And of course, by the time he opened his eyes and didn’t see the world swaying around him, it was already half past eleven in the morning on the day of the party.  _Typical_. He went down to the kitchen, not in the mood to stay in that goddamn bedroom another minute.

To his surprise he found all the staff from his disastrous dinner there, having lunch together. As soon as Ellen saw him she smiled and quickly got him a plate. “It’s good to see you up and running again, honey,” she said.

Dean laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah, well, can’t quite say I’m running yet.” He took a seat next to Jo, who gave him a friendly smile. “So, what have I missed? Aren’t you guys busy with party preparations?”

Garth shrugged. “Well we gotta eat sometime, don’t we?” he answered, small bits of food flying from his mouth. “Besides, we also have to make sure Sam and his guests get their lunch, so we’re pretty busy. Hence the early lunch for us.”

Dean nodded and grabbed some food for himself from the table. He suddenly felt the need for some normal conversation.

“So what do you guys all do around here?”

Ellen smiled. “Well, you know me and Jo, and Garth as well by now. I’m guessing the rest of you want to tell it yourselves?”

“Well, I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time,” Charlie responded. “I mean, I guess I do accounting? Except I don’t really get to see much. Sometimes I work on Sam’s digital correspondence, you know, cloaking his email and tweaking his digital business cards. It’s all very hush-hush. But don’t tell him I said that!”

The others looked at her awkwardly, but there was something about her that made the atmosphere a lot less painful.

Ash cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, “while she does all that, I’m stuck with the boring bits of looking after the security footage.”

“So there  _are_  cameras?” Dean piped up. He could feel Jo become tense next to him, and he suddenly realised that he had managed to make it clear that he had doubted her. He quickly glanced to the side, but she was avoiding his gaze.  _Perfect._

“Yeah,” Ash answered. “I mean what do you expect? Big-ass house, money business everywhere, parties where you never know what the guests are up to… Of course there are some cameras here and there.”

_Hm._ That didn’t sound like bugged rooms at all. But maybe Ash was lying. Dean hoped the guy was lying. He resented the Big Brother idea as much as when he just came here, but when it came to choosing who to believe, he definitely chose his old friend over a stranger.

Although, the guy did seem familiar.

“Hey Ash, did we meet before?”

Ash shrugged. “Technically, no, but I was basically an inhabitant of the Roadhouse.”

“Oh.” It was silent for a moment. “So where you there when…”

“When it burnt to a crisp?” Even though Ash managed to sound quite nonchalant about most things, a small amount of bitterness managed to creep into his voice here. “Sure was. Nearly lost my life there. Sam saved me though.”

“Wait, Sam was there?”

Ash glanced at Ellen, but the older woman gave nothing away, her face made of stone. “Yeah, Sam was there. He was actually planning to stay for a few nights, since he didn’t really have anywhere to go. But on the first night the place went up in flames. Your little bro was the only one to come out without a scratch.”

Dean was quite sure there was an accusation hidden in there somewhere, but was quickly distracted by another person clearing their throat.

“Hi, I’m Meg, I’m the nurse!”

This caught Dean’s attention again. “Why would this place need a nurse?”

“Well technically I’m in training, but I take care of these guys’ scars and shit, you know? That, and I’m just hanging around and jumping in when needed.”

Dean glared at her. “So where were you the past few days when I was dying from the flu?”

Meg scoffed. “Yeah, man-flu more like. You weren’t dying, and I wasn’t needed. Not for a fucking flu. What did you want me to do, hold your hand? If you’re expecting bedside manner you can wait a long, long time, cupcake.”

Dean was about to snap at her, but was interrupted by Ellen getting up. “Jo, clear the table please. The rest of you, I could use all the help I can get. Break-time’s over, people. Back to work.”

Dean quickly got up as well. “Can I help? I just don’t want to be hanging around all day when I could actually prove to be of some use.”

The woman thought for a moment, then nodded. “Might as well. I could use your muscles. ‘Cause Ash and Garth are about as useful there as Charlie; all the effort, not all the manpower.”

“Hey, I’ve got manpower!” Charlie huffed. “Yeah, she’s got manpower!” Garth backed her up. Jo chuckled at this while Ellen gave a small smile. “Fair enough, Charlie, yes, you’re definitely of more use than the boys. Come help me carry some boxes. Take Dean and show him where to put it.”

Charlie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon hauling boxes and tables, opening champagne bottles, filling glasses which were meticulously placed on said tables, and of course cleaning the room until the floor was blinking and the huge windows were sided by beautiful deep red velvet curtains without a speck of dust on them.

Dean was actually quite impressed. Sure, this place might look like a dump from the outside, but the inside really was kinda awesome.

_ Hold on. _

Shouldn’t they fix up the garden at least? Why would rich people want to come to something that looked like such a dump? And if they were fine with the dump, then why would the ballroom or whatever this room was need to look perfect?

Dean was completely and utterly lost.

“Dean!”

He looked up from his musing. Charlie was standing right next to him. “Don’t go all Harry Potter on me and say you can hear voices from the walls,” she said.

“What?”

“Never mind. Ellen says dinner is ready. You can get changed after and join in at the party.”

Dean looked at the tables; two-thirds of them were still empty. “What about those?” He nodded. “That’s where the banquet will be,” she answered. “You don’t have to help with that, you’re done for the night.”

He put down the box he was holding and –

_Flash._

_Music._

_Flash._

_Blue._

_Flash._

~oO0Oo~

When Dean opened his eyes, he immediately felt someone take his hand.

“Dean!”

“Jo?” he grunted. He tried to lift his head to see, put was immediately pushed back by quite small but strong hands while a flashlight shone in his eyes.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  _Meg._

“If you don’t watch it I’m gonna stick that flashlight where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Just answer the question while I do my job.”

Dean grunted and fell back into the cushions. “I don’t know, I… I think Charlie told me dinner was ready. And there was something – bits of the party? I don’t know.”

He thought. God, his head hurt. It was as if trying to remember was physically damaging his brain cells.

“There was a name too. Short. I think…”

The flashlight switched to his other eye, and he felt inclined to just swat at it like he would at a fly.

“What happened?”

“My best guess?” Meg responded. “Overexertion when you were still recovering from your man-flu. Missed the party too. Shame. There were some pretty hot people there.”

The flashlight disappeared, and Dean immediately tried to find Jo through the spots on his retina. He didn’t trust Meg. He’d much rather see what Jo had to say.

“Jo?”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied. “But Charlie told me what happened. You sort of collapsed. She tried to catch you, but your arm flailed and you accidentally hit her. That’s why she’s not here right now to see if you’re okay. She’s still in the kitchen with an ice-pack. She’s a little shaken.”

Dean swallowed. “Wow. Well tell her I’m sorry, yeah?” Jo nodded. “Will do.”

“So what time is it? How long was I out?”

“Well, dinner was ready at six, and it’s now three A.M., so that’s nine hours. You can probably see why we were so concerned.”

“And Charlie’s still awake and nursing an ice-pack?”

“The pain is keeping her up,” Meg answered. “You probably cracked her cheekbone. I offered her some pain killers and sleeping aids, but she wanted to stay up until you came round.”

Dean wanted to sit up, but Meg pushed him down again. “Speaking of meds, I think your man-flu was perhaps a little more serious after all. I’m giving you some antibiotics and a sleeping pill to get you through this night.”

“Hell no.”

“Dean, please, just take the meds.” Jo sounded tired. How could he say no to her?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But only ‘cause it’s you.”

He was offered a glass of water and quickly downed the pills. Meg gave him a little pat on the shoulder which made him want to bite her hand off, but he quickly felt his eyelids growing heavier until the last thing he saw was Jo’s worried – no.  _Apologetic_  face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh great, what's coming next? And what's up with that short name? There's so many short names in this household. Or is it a new name, one that hasn't been mentioned before..? But I'd love to hear your thoughts and speculations! Please, don't be shy, send reviews, or requests, and have a nice day :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter that sort of flies by. Don't fret though, in the next one things will finally be explained! Also a quick reminder that this story does not contain anything supernatural. It is a supernaturallessness AU. (Probably not a real word, but I'm using it anyways.) Hope you enjoy :)

Dean had never felt worse in his life.

His next few days were filled with feverish sweating, vomiting and horrible dreams to top it all off.

And the dreams really were the worst. He would be exhausted after a day of not being able to keep his food inside of him, and then wouldn’t get any rest at night. His dreams would be filled with bright flashes, vivid blue and eventually himself pressing Charlie against the floor and punching her when she started struggling. That was always the moment he woke up, and he was very grateful for it – he really didn’t want to know what would happen next.

And though he didn’t like to, he did tell Jo about it. She had noticed the look on his face when she washed down his face with a damp cloth and asked him if he had slept alright, and when she asked he couldn’t  _not_  tell her. She mattered too much to him.

It was usually Jo who came to check up on Dean, but every now and then Meg would show her face as well and write some things down on a clipboard. It was after a week of feeling horrible that she decided to change his meds because this wasn’t going anywhere.

A few days ago he was still able to talk to his friend, but now Dean could barely even form a proper thought, never mind put it into words. His dreams got worse, and on top of that he was starting to suffer from deliriums as well. Sometimes Jo’s face looked like it was encased in flames which were melting the flesh off her cheek where the scar was, and Meg’s eyes were big black orbs whenever he saw the nurse, her face split into an evil grin. The room itself seemed to be made of a thick liquid for 80% of the time, and at random moments his vision would be filled with nothing but blue, heavy blue that looked like coloured crystal cracked by lightning. It scared him to death.

Or maybe he was already dying.

~666~

Dean opened his eyes.

The fact that he was aware of himself doing that was the best thing to happen to him in years. He felt like he was waking up from the most awful sleep in his life. But at least he was alive. And that definitely had to count for something. Especially since there was an IV stuck in his arm.

He looked around and saw a small buzzer next to his head. He pressed it, and when Ellen’s voice sounded, he felt a wave of relief for the familiarity of her.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Ellen. Could you maybe…”

What did he want exactly? He had no clue. He sighed.

“Could you just send someone up? Jo, preferably.” After a moment of thought he added: “And some food. A burger. And pie.”

Ellen laughed softly on the other side of the line. “I’ll see what Meg approves of.”

Dean swore softly under his breath. Demon bitch would probably give him some lettuce or something. The words  _demon bitch_  suddenly brought up mental images from his memory that made him shiver, and he quickly shoved that thought aside. “Thanks, Ellen.”

Jo showed up two minutes later with some mashed potatoes and herbal tea. Dean raised his eyebrows, but she shook her head and pointed at the IV, which she now proceeded to remove.

“You haven’t had proper food in a while, so you’re definitely not getting burgers and pie yet.” Dean gave a small pout at this, which made her laugh. “No Dean, I’m not going to be the one to make you throw up.”

She put his pillows a little higher so that he could sit up properly. A wave of dizziness went through him when he straightened himself, but other than that he felt okay.

“So, when you say a while, how long have I actually been out for?”

Jo’s gaze became cautious. “The party was a month ago.”

Dean stared at her.

He stared a little longer.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Wow, and what do you answer to  _that_  when there’s a big-ass scar there?

“Dean, just tell me what’s going on in your head.”

He put a hand through his hair and huffed. “Eh, I don’t know.”

He thought for a moment. “So did I miss anything?”

Jo seemed to exhale in relief that that was all he asked. “Not really, no. Party was a success, by the way. Not that you might be interested. I don’t know. But other than that nothing much happened.”

“Did Sammy visit me?”

This put the girl on edge again. “He didn’t. He was busy, Dean.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that over the course of a month my little brother didn’t even have  _one second_  to spare and check in on his dying brother,” he spat out. “Why did he even ask me to move in here in the first place!?” He took his plate and smashed it against the wall. Jo seemed torn between comforting Dean and cleaning up the mess. In the end she went for the mess.

“What does he fucking  _want_  from me!”

“I don’t know, Dean,” she said softly. “But he’s still your little brother. I’m sure there’s a reason for his behaviour.”

“There’d better fucking be,” Dean muttered. Spots had begun appearing on his retina, a signal that he was about to pass out from overexertion. He wanted to smash something else in frustration, but eventually just went to lie down again.

“I’m sorry Jo,” he muttered. She gave a small nod. “It’s okay. I get it. I really do.”

And with that she left again.

~666~

“… definitely took his mind off things, but we can expect him to go back to his old self, so we should prepare -”

Dean walked into the kitchen. He had been awake for a day now, and he needed some proper food. To his surprise, the only people in the kitchen were Ash and Meg.

“Who’s going back to his old self?” Dean asked as he pulled a pop-tart out of the cupboard and started heating it up (oh shut up, that was proper enough for now).

“Sam,” Meg answered. “You scared the crap outta him, Dean-o. Took him twice as long to finish his work each day, that’s how distracted he was. Why else do you think he didn’t come and visit you? Thanks to you he was way behind with his workload. Had to give him chill-pills for it.”

Dean felt his blood boil, but he bit the inside of his cheek and ignored her. A sly smile grew on her face. “Aw, big brother Dean afraid he’s unloved?”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Ash said, and he quickly slipped out of the kitchen.

Dean set down his plate with a very distinctive  _clunk_ , then turned around to face the nurse.

“Okay, what is your  _problem_  with me?” Meg just tilted her head and smiled. “Nothing,” she responded. “It really is nothing personal, cupcake. I just sort of hate people in general. Combine that with a twisted sense of humour and I am the result.”

Dean stared at her for a moment. “So can I call you Megabitch?”

She huffed. “Not exactly an intellectual piece of art, I’d say.”

“Megabitch it is then.”

“Bite me, sweet-cheeks.”

“Rather not, I might catch something. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a pop-tart to eat.”

Meg left the kitchen with a sulk on her face, and Dean drew it down as a 1-0 victory for himself.

Chewing on his pop-tart he went over what he had overheard again, and what Meg had said. It didn’t quite feel right. To keep someone’s mind off things was something you said when you wanted to distract them from a bad thing. Which was kind of the opposite of what Meg had been implying. Also, why would they have to prepare for things going back to normal?

Conclusion: Meg was a lying bitch.

Sam was probably fine.

So who would they have been talking about?

Now this might just be Dean’s exhausted and paranoid mind, but he had a strange inkling. After all, why would Meg lie about who she was talking about if she wasn’t talking about Dean anyway? Yeah, none of this shit made sense.

So if Dean assumed it was about him, then things started to make a little more sense again, though in a very creepy way. Apparently something, presumably the illness, had taken Dean’s mind off things, and now they had to prepare for his stubborn investigative nature again (and considering what it had been on before shit went down, that only deepened his suspicions).

Okay, so maybe he had thought about protecting Jo and Ellen by not tearing the mansion apart. But this was just begging him to investigate now.

He walked out of the kitchen, and after forty-five minutes of searching he finally found who he was looking for – Garth. He gave the boy a friendly smile. “Hey, Garth, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you. Seriously, it’s nuts.”

As expected, the boy followed him with enthusiasm. He only realised he was in trouble when he got dragged into a cupboard. Dean quickly went to stand in front of the door.

“Okay, Garth. I think it’s time we talk.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEAR READERS, PLEASE REMEMBER THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. This fic contains drug abuse, dub-con/non-con, public and angry smut, and more stuff like that. Please, if you can't deal with that, don't read. Look after your own mentality and read at your own discretion. Love you all.

Garth had turned white as a sheet. “Dean, I can’t -”

“Sure you can,” Dean interrupted. “Come on, Garth. Surely broom cupboards aren’t bugged?”

The boy looked like he was about to faint, but his expression was resolute. “There is nothing I can tell you. I don’t know anything, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell.”

Dean slowly walked forward, using his height as an intimidation factor. He grabbed Garth by the arm to ensure the guy wouldn’t slip past him.

“Look Garth,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “I don’t believe in all that higher purpose crap, but Sam invited me here. I’m here for a reason. And I’m getting sick and tired of being excluded and pushed away and basically knowing fuck-all! So I think it’s time you give me something. Anything. I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble for it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was supposed to have found out eventually.”

Garth shook his head. “He wanted to keep you in the dark as long as possible…”

“He? You mean Sam?”

The boy started trembling. “I’ve said too much…”

Dean sighed. “Okay, look. How about this. You don’t tell me what’s going on. You just help me figure it out on my own.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t mean sneak me into some secret room or anything. All I want to know right now is when and where the next informal party is.”

Garth swallowed, but seemed to calm down a little at least. “You know that you probably won’t get in, right?”

“I don’t care. I want to try. I need to see this for myself.”

The boy scratched behind his ear, making it stick out a little further. “Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, fine. There’s actually one tonight. Downstairs. The stairs that lead there are behind the old servants’ quarters.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks Garth. Really.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Garth looked around as if to check that they really weren’t being eavesdropped on, and then finally whispered: “Don’t eat or drink  _anything_.”

Well, that wasn’t disconcerting at all.

~666~

That evening, Dean walked down the stairs. He could vaguely hear techno and dance music, and for a moment he wondered what kinds of people came to these parties.

At the bottom of the staircase was a  big door. Next to it was Ellen with a clipboard. As soon as she heard footsteps, she looked up.

“Dean?”

“I’ve invited myself to the party, Ellen. Let me in.”

“I can’t, Dean.”

“Is Sam in there?”

“He is, but he’ll already know that you’re -”

The door swung open, and for a second the music was a lot louder, but then Sam stepped outside and closed it behind him again, shutting out the sound with it.

“Dean. What are you doing here?”

“How much longer were you planning on keeping me in the dark?”

“A lot longer. And before you say anything, I have my reasons, and they are none of your business.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, those reasons don’t really mean shit anymore. I’m here now, so you might as well let me in.”

Sam frowned at that, but then he sighed.

“Damn it, Dean. Fine. If you’re so desperate to be a part of my world…”

He gave Ellen a small nod. “You’re doing excellent, Ellen. Don’t think I’m going to hold this against you or anyone else. This screw-up is completely down to Dean.”

The woman gave a stern nod back, but Dean could see the relief in her eyes. Damn, Sam even scared  _her_. Now that was wrong on so many levels.

The brothers entered the room, and it was as if they had stepped into a completely different building.

The light was dark blue mixed with UV-lights, which gave an eerie purple glow and made white clothes light up like neon signs. Strobes made every move look chopped off, like they were stills in a comic book. The music pressed itself against Dean’s ears with a bass that was perfectly in sync with the strobe lights, but it wasn’t actually that loud that he couldn’t hear what someone was saying right next to him.

“Welcome to the Pit,” Sam spoke in his ear.

There were probably about a hundred people crammed into this basement, all swaying their bodies to the music, grinding against each other or in some cases even having sex right there where everyone could see them. There were a few booths where they could get a little bit more privacy, but those who were there were clearly drunk or influenced by God knew what.

“So, what, you run a night club?” Dean asked Sam. “Is that it?”

Sam barked a humourless laugh. “No, Dean. Not exactly.”

Suddenly, a kid who didn’t look older than eighteen collapsed right in front of them and started having a seizure. Dean immediately fell to his knees and held the kid’s body down to keep him from shaking too much and hurting himself. He looked up.

“Sam! Help me!”

Sam took a small mic out of his pocket and spoke into it. “I’ve got a seizure near the front door. Send Meg.”

He looked at Dean. “There. I helped.”

Dean gaped at his younger brother. “You’ve gotta be kidding, right?”

“I don’t really see the joke.”

Suddenly Meg showed up, giving both boys a little nod. “Well done, Cupcake.”

“Bite me, bitch.”

She huffed as she stuck a syringe into the kid’s arm and waited for the tremors to subside. “Sam, could you help me carry him? I can’t exactly do my tests in the middle of a dance floor.”

“You’re going to do tests on him!?”

“Of course,” Sam replied to the nurse. “Dean, please, while I’m gone, don’t do anything stupid.” He walked away with Meg, carrying the kid between them, and Dean flipped them off.

He got up and looked around. So, a kid having a seizure was normal? What kind of place was this? What was going on?

He suddenly spotted a dark-haired guy weaving through the crowd. Every now and then someone stopped him, and he’d hand them something with a smirk on his face. Dean quickly walked over to him.

“Hey, hey!”

The guy turned around. “Yes?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Michael. It is a pleasure to meet you – Dean Winchester, isn’t it? Have you come to join Sam, make this a family business?”

Dean resisted the urge to punch the guy. “What are you giving them?” he demanded instead.

“That depends,” Michael replied. “Are you willing to join the fun?”

He held out his hand; in it was a small vial with a dark red liquid. Whenever the light hit it, it seemed to glow gold.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“This is Sue,” Michael answered.

Everything stopped.

_ “She’s still in development, but already a beauty.” _

_ “Sue is a prototype – but the most beautiful I have ever seen.” _

_ “She’s an art project. I will not abandon Sue until she has been perfected.” _

_Sue._

Sue. That was the name he remembered.

Dean looked up at Michael’s face.

“Sure,” he said with a dark smile. “I’m new to the fun though, so if you could explain…”

“It’s simple,” the other guy answered. “It’s Russian roulette, the heavenly version of it. The effects are completely random. Everyone will take the hit at midnight. After that, anything can happen. There are no rules, no restrictions, no limits.”

“So what if someone goes completely bananas and starts punching his way through the crowd?”

“No restrictions, no limits.”

“So what’s the catch?”

Michael shot him an incredulous look.

“I’m just going to go ahead and not answer that.”

_Right._  Drugs, random effects. Should be kind of self-explanatory. Dean once again resisted the urge to punch Michael and walked away. He checked his watch – 22.47h. He had over an hour to kill before everyone would take the drug. He wondered what was going to happen.

Dean noticed a few people who were being ignored by Michael. They were evenly spread out over the space, probably there to observe the effects of the drug and keep an eye on the place.

He was about to approach one of them, but then Sam emerged from the back room again. Instead of heading over to Dean though, he made a bee-line for a brunette in a tight fuchsia dress. She was stunning; Dean could totally see why Sam would go to her before his own brother. It still pissed him off though.

He walked over with big strides.

“And who might this bitch be?”

“Wow, thanks Dean, really,” Sam said. “Was that necessary?”

“Well, so far everyone you’ve been surrounding yourself with in this den is either a dick or a bitch. So yeah.”

“Oh, because you  _clearly_  are the shining example of the one true gentleman in the room,” the woman said. “And it’s Ruby, by the way, to answer your question. Thanks for remembering me.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I have never met you in my life.”

“Dean doesn’t remember the party,” Sam explained. “ _Someone_  dosed him up.”

Dean turned to Ruby. “Hold on – you roofied me!?” She shrugged. “Hey, I’m  the face of the company, together with Sam. We are the PR. Of course I slipped the older brother of Sammy a free sample.”

“I thought you ran the business,” Dean turned to Sam. His little brother nodded. “In a way, yes, I run the business  _here_. Sue gets made here, she gets tested here.”

“On me, apparently!”

“Oh get over it, it’s not like you died or anything,” Ruby snapped back.

“I could have died!?”

“No,” Sam spoke hastily, “for Christ’s sake, let’s just – okay, let’s go to the back and talk about this. You’re in now, so I can’t exactly see why I would keep you in the dark any longer.”

“I can’t exactly see why you kept me in the dark in the first place,” Dean muttered, but followed his brother anyway. They went to one of the booths in the back, receiving some slightly shocked expressions from a group of barely legal adults. It was apparently well-known who the big-shots were here.

“So,” Sam said as soon as they sat down, “if you have any questions, shoot.”

“When did this start?”

“About two years after I left,” the younger brother answered. “I got in over my head, met Ruby, we got high together, made up this insane idea, and eventually just went ‘fuck it’ and decided to give it a go.”

Something about Sam’s expression didn’t seem quite right, and Dean suspected there was more to this story than he was told right now, but he decided to leave that be right now.

“But why?” he asked instead. “You wanted to go to college, didn’t you? Become a lawyer?”

“That’s what I did at first. Two years of Stanford, two years of building up massive debts. I can tell you those debts have been paid off now.”

“So it was for the money?”

“And for the thrill. Trust me, Dean, doing this is actually awesome. I’m sure you’d love it, it’s like living inside GTA.”

Dean frowned. “If I would love it so much, then why keep me in the dark about everything for so long?”

Within 0.2 seconds Sam shut down completely. “I need you to trust me on this, Dean,” he said coldly.

“Eh, no.”

“That’s all you’re gonna get from me. Take it or leave it.”

“Come on, man, you really expect me to trust you after all the shit you’ve pulled? I don’t get it, none of this shit makes sense! Why did you pull me in in the first place? Why did you contact me after years of nothing? And why then leave me out?”

“Actually, getting in touch again was my idea,” Ruby spoke up.

Dean stared at her. “And why would you care about our shitty relationship?”

“I felt Sam could use the help,” she answered. “He told me a lot about you. Somehow I got the idea that with you at our side, we would all be able to really step up our game.”

“And remind me again how legal and safe this stuff all is?”

“Very much illegal,” Sam answered, “and there’s quite a lot of kinks in the cable for Sue. So safe isn’t really an appropriate word here either.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “And you want me to join? I don’t think so.” He got up. “I’m out of here. Be glad I’m not calling the cops on your sorry asses.”

To his mild surprise, both Sam and Ruby didn’t make an effort to call him back. When he was half-way across the room, he glanced over his shoulder. Sam had his lips pressed against Ruby’s neck, sucking softly, his hand between her legs under the table. She had her head thrown back, eyes almost completely closed in ecstasy.

“Fucking typical,” Dean growled.

He left the room, but when he was about to walk up the stairs, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Jesus, Ellen,” he panted when he saw who it was. He suddenly panicked. “Don’t tell me Jo is in there.”

The woman shook her head. “No, none of the staff get involved with the drugs. Meg is the most involved since she does medical exams and things like that.”

“She experiments on them.”

“Basically.”

“So what is it? Why did you stop me?”

“I’m guessing you’re not planning on staying any longer?”

Dean frowned. “Ellen, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dean. It’s just… The atmosphere in this place is often very threatening. I don’t exactly like being here most times. But someone has to look out for Sam.” Dean smiled. Ellen was still their mother in her own way.

“Please, Dean. Sleep on it. I would be much happier to have you here too. I mean, I’ve got Garth and Jo and Charlie and Ash as well, who are all relatively normal in their own way, but they feel it too. We try to keep each other sane, but the pressure does get to us all sometimes. Having you here would make it easier.”

Dean brushed his head through his hair and sighed. “Ellen…”

“Besides, what do you have left out there to return to?”

Now that was a fair point. A painful one, but true enough. Dean suddenly felt the weight of the little vial in his pocket again.

“What time is it?”

“Ten to twelve.”

He stuck his hand in his pocket and closed it around the vial. He didn’t have to. He could just stand there and watch everything unfold. He could also just go to bed right now, and leave in the morning to find something else outside of this madness.

The glass seemed to glow in his hand, heavy, present.

He was here now anyway.

He could just try it. See what it was like. Pull a Sam and just do a major  _fuck it_  for one night, then maybe regret it in the morning and move on.

Why not?

He stared at the door.

“I’ll sleep on it,” he said to Ellen. Then he went back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't do what I'm making Dean do. Please don't do drugs. I'm sure you're all intelligent individuals who don't need reminding, but I do care about you all, believe it or not. So look after yourself. Anyway, please, you're welcome to leave me comments/reviews and requests. And I hope you have a nice day :)


	6. Chapter 6

Now that is was so close to midnight, there were a few more people standing around with clipboards, Meg being one of them. Dean felt uneasy with the idea that he was being watched like a lab rat, but this had been his own decision after all.

It suddenly hit him how stupid he was being. He was about to take drugs, drugs with random effects at that. The last time he took it he apparently lost his memory from it, and he really didn’t know what else the stuff had made him do – though he had a feeling that it had to do with his dreams in which he punched and nearly raped Charlie.

He swallowed. This stuff was horrible, this whole stunt was insane. It was the worst thing he could possibly do.

So why had he even considered taking Sue? His hands were sweaty, the little vial with the red substance burning a hole in his pocket. He felt it pulling.

Some dark corner of his thoughts seemed to be opening under the lure of the drug. He could feel it whispering to him, about all the things in his life that had weighed him down – the pressure of his father to follow in his footsteps and join the military someday, or help him in the garage of uncle Bobby otherwise. His dad shaping him while being close-minded and staying blind by choice for what his sons actually wanted – law school, furniture-making, freedom, coming home with both guys as well as girls.

Sam and Dean had often clashed as kids, mostly because Dean wanted to be like his dad, wanted to make John proud, whereas Sam saw how they were practically oppressed and was always pushing against the regime. The fact that they were dragged all over the country for their dad to find a proper job didn’t help either.

But they had been able to bond too. The best moments were whenever the boys were staying over at the Roadhouse with Ellen and Jo (and apparently Ash too). They had the freedom to do and say more without their dad finding out.

It was on one of those days that the brothers had confessed to each other that they were bisexual, though Sam was and always would be more comfortable with himself in that sense than Dean. It had been a true milestone in their relationship as brothers.

So when Sam turned his back on his family, on  _Dean_ , it had hurt. It had hurt so much. And he didn’t hear from his little brother again until the day he moved in again.

For a moment it struck him that the timing had been oddly perfect – he had quit his job, he wanted to contact Sam and talk to his little brother, but Sam had beat him to it. It seemed strangely coincidental. But he quickly shoved that thought away. He really didn’t want to think about that right now.

There had been so many disappointments, so many setbacks, and they all weighed down on Dean right now.

He pulled the vial out of his pocket and stared at it.

With quitting his job and moving in with Sam he had left most of those setbacks behind. He didn’t know right now where he was going to go next, so he was in that little void between big periods in his life, like when high school graduates take a year to travel before going to college. A moment where it didn’t matter for Dean what he would do to himself.

“ _Thirty seconds to lift-off._ ”

_ Why not? _  What did he have to lose?

_Nothing._

“ _Twenty seconds._ ”

Palms sweating and itching. Swallowing a strange and sudden excess of saliva.

“ _Ten seconds._ ”

_ It might be fun. _

He kinda wanted it, wanted to know.

_ Needed to know. _

“ _Three… two… one._ ”

All the lights turned dark red.

“ _Lift-off._ ”

He popped open the vial, poured the contents into his mouth, and swallowed.

~666~

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but everything was…  _strange._  And  _fascinating_. And  _beautiful_.

He didn’t really feel like he was doped up though. He went over to Meg.

“Hey, Little Miss Sunshine!” he called over the music. “How long is this supposed to last?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You took Sue?” “Michael offered, I was curious,” Dean replied. “Can you answer my question now?”

“The longest it has lasted so far has been thirty-six hours,” she replied. “Don’t worry if you’re not feeling it yet, Cupcake. You’re gonna go through a whole range of different types of tripping before the sun goes down again.”

Dean gave a nod. It was like the world was filtered; colours had something about them that made everything look like it came from a long-lost civilisation, as if it was all drenched in an ancient power, slightly glowing in a not-quite-visible way.

Movements seemed fluent, slow and hypnotising, despite the strobe lights. It was as if they were underwater, the music muted, the long hair and dresses of girls floating around them in slow-motion. Everything was wrapping itself around Dean like a blanket. And yet he felt wide awake, as if the whole world had slowed down and he was looking at it from a little bubble of normality.

The disorientation of it all hit him in a sudden wave of dizziness, and he quickly walked to the nearest exit and left the Pit.

When he closed the door behind him, he saw that he had stepped into a hallway. It was only now that he realised that this was where Sam and Meg had taken the boy who had collapsed earlier. Dean decided to do some snooping.

That turned out to be a little more difficult than he had hoped though. The strange ancient energy that he had imagined seeing in the Pit had followed him outside and was now wrapping itself around him, seeping into his skin and making him feel incredibly strange. It was the feeling he would sometimes get in a dream, where you felt like you were anchored but hovering and weightless at the same time. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

The first room he walked into was an office, but it was empty at the moment. He took a quick look at the papers on the desk, and he could just make out some graphs and numbers that seemed to have to do with money, and perhaps some contracts, but the letters seemed to swim in front of his eyes and flash to Greek or Russian or whatever for some reason, so he quickly gave up before he would get a headache.

The next room turned out to be the med-bay, where the kid from earlier was lying on a bed. To Dean’s surprise, there was actually a familiar face there too, one he hadn’t seen in quite a while now.

“Charlie? What are you doing here?”

As soon as she saw him, Charlie froze. Her breath became rapid and shallow, and Dean quickly walked to her side. “Hey, Charlie, it’s okay, it’s me, I’m okay…” But as soon as he reached out to her, she let out a short scream and stumbled backwards.

“Charlie, please…”

She shook her head violently, her long and beautiful red hair floating around her like a cloud of silk. It was the most vivid colour in the room, and it seemed to glow. Dean wondered what it smelled like. If it felt the way it looked. He walked closer…

And he stopped. Charlie’s eyes were huge and filled with fear. She was terrified of him.

Dean turned around and ran. He fell against the wall at least twice, but he didn’t care – he needed to put as much distance between himself and her. He couldn’t traumatise the girl. Not again.

He stumbled into a room that looked like a laboratory. Sitting at one of the sterile tables was an Asian kid who couldn’t be older than twenty. His jaw was set as he was listening to a short, balding guy in a suit who was sitting on the corner of the table.

“…just a teensy less damaging, okay darling?” he said in a heavy British accent.

The boy was about to make a snarky remark, but then the older man looked up and saw Dean. “Ah, the second Winchester. Glad to see you’ve made it through rehab. Little Kevin here had to analyse at least twenty different blood samples from you, isn’t that right, darling?”

“I am  _not_  your darling.”

The man laughed and hopped off the table. “You just keep telling yourself that, my young prince.”

He straightened his clothes a little before directing his attention back to Dean. “Crowley, and the pleasure is all mine.” He flashed a grin, but that quickly changed into a frown.

“Hold on.” He stepped closer, looking suddenly twice as big to Dean, who winced.

“You’re tripping!? After all that work to get you clean again?”

“I thought I was ill,” Dean brought out hoarsely. Colours had started leaking from their objects and were wrapping themselves around his limbs.

“Well, clearly you were misinformed. That was rehab, withdrawal symptoms. Sue has a pretty intense effect, as you’ve noticed. Tell me, were you craving more? Is that why you took it? That even after the detox you’re still hooked?”

Dean shook his head. Sounds were dripping out of his ears.

“Why Sue? Seems like a random name.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“SU, handsome. Substance Undetermined. It’s as simple as that. Now, if you’ll excuse us, while it was… enlightening to meet you, me and darling Kevin here were having a moment. So scramble, if you please.”

Dean frowned, but left nevertheless. Kevin seemed young but strong and smart enough to look after himself.

As he walked into the hallway again, his mind somehow managed to wander to the information he had just been given. So he had been going through rehab? And now he was back into Sue. This had been a bad idea. A really shitty idea.

But somehow it didn’t feel that bad.

The world had stopped doing the weird shit from earlier, but now seemed to be vibrating with a low hum. And Dean felt good. The vibrating tones reached right into him like when he would be standing next to speakers with the volume on max. They put a boost in his step and gave him a strange energy, a power. The ancient power from earlier had taken him over. He could feel a manic grin spread on his face.

He suddenly collided with a figure and nearly went flying if it wasn’t for the hand that shot out and grabbed his wrist. He looked up at the face of a guy in his mid- to late thirties, slightly unshaven, dark brown hair that stood up wildly like he had just had the wildest rollercoaster ride of his life – or just amazing sex. Defined jawline, soft, pink lips. Blue eyes.

The colours seemed to glow and hum and vibrate, but Dean couldn’t look away.

“Hello, Dean.”

The voice was dark, gravelly, smoky,  _hot_.

But the eyes –

_ Heavy blue, like crystal cracked by lightning. _

So very blue. Straight from his nightmares.

But Dean was frozen in place, like a rabbit in the headlights.

“Who are you?” he managed to bring out.

The guy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little. “Castiel.”

“So, Castiel, what do you do around here?”

This made the man chuckle. “I am merely an entrepreneur,” he answered. His gaze was still locked on Dean’s, heavy blue meeting clear green. The air between them felt like a hot summer’s day promising a storm – heavy with electricity.

Footsteps sounded, and seconds later Sam appeared around the corner. As soon as he saw the two men, he froze. Castiel finally dropped Dean’s wrist, and Dean felt like it was oddly cold and naked without the other’s touch.

“Sam,” the guy nodded. Sam nodded back. “Castiel.” The atmosphere between these two was about as bad as between the stranger and Dean, except it was different – threatening. Dean’s drugged up mind compared it to two alpha males sizing each other up.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think my brother needs some rest,” Sam spoke. Castiel gave another nod. “Of course.”

Despite the fact that he was shorter than Sam, Castiel felt like he filled up the entire hallway with his presence. For Dean it was like he could see the lightning from the guy’s eyes skitter through the air and form thunder clouds that seemed to press Sam away. It was terrifying, but extremely beautiful.

But Sam dragged him away already, out of the hallway, through the Pit, which had erupted into a mess of sex and violence, past Ellen and up the stairs, all the way back to Dean’s bedroom.

And the whole way Dean could feel Castiel’s eyes boring into his back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think of this chapter after you've read it. Enjoy :)

Before he left, Sam asked Dean to lock his door, just in case. Dean obliged, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe he realised that he was starting to go into a state where he wouldn’t be able to do much against unwanted visitors.

The world looked like burning plastic; bubbling, curling. Strange colours were rippling under the surface of everything, like luminescent creatures crawling under the skin of the world, trying to burrow their way to the surface. And every now and then blue lightning crackled over the walls. Dean walked up to them and traced the scars of fire with his fingertips, trying to find their heat to confirm their reality.

And everything was spinning around him. He himself was floating in the middle of it, the axis of the planet. He threw his head back and laughed.

God, it felt so good. His own skin felt amazing too, like the blue lightning was a current through his own body as well. Each time he pressed a fingertip against his stomach or his cheek or his arm, the sensation of it would flare, almost visible and bright as fireworks. He laughed again, and with each heaving breath he noticed that the same counted for his lungs.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean swivelled around, causing the whole world  to go flying. “Sam?”

“Not really,” it sounded. That gravelly voice that made his eardrums vibrate and his blood rush. He needed more of it. Right now.

He opened the door to Castiel. As soon as the man saw him, he grinned. “You are really getting there, aren’t you?”

Dean dragged him into his room, hyperaware of the sensation of the fabric in his fist, quickly locking the door behind them. “Sam doesn’t want me to let anyone in,” he explained. “And I don’t think he likes you.”

Castiel laughed.  _Oh God, that laugh._  “Me and Sam… have our differences,” he spoke. “Don’t think  _for a second_  though that he can command me around like I am one of his little slaves.”

His eyes –  _blue lightning eyes,_ Dean saw the flashes trailing electrifying paths – ran up and down the drugged-up man’s body, finally resting on his face. Locking gazes.

“You like me.” He sounded so certain, but still as if he was asking confirmation.

Dean suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He had exchanged like three sentences with this guy. But he couldn’t look away from his eyes. He felt a pull, a pull that was scarily similar to the one he felt earlier from Sue. A need he never knew before.

“I need you.”

The guy was suddenly right in Dean’s face, invading his personal space, absorbing his entire world with his presence. His eyes were dark and hooded, his pupils dilated.

“Can you feel the electricity?” he muttered. He raised his hand to Dean’s arm and kept it mere millimetres from his skin, running it up and down the length of it.

Yes, Dean could feel it. The hairs on his arm stood up straight. He could see an electric blue current following Castiel’s hand, glowing under his almost-touch. His heartbeat was thrumming in his ears, and right now he felt like only one thing could shut out that noise, could satiate his need.

He grabbed Castiel’s arm. “I need you,” he said again, putting more urgency into his voice.

_ Oh, that touch, sweet contact, electrifying him, frying his nervous system… _

Castiel tilted his head a little, his gaze cold and devouring Dean’s soul at the same time. “How often have you taken Sue?”

“My second time,” Dean answered. Couldn’t the guy just skip the talking and get to him already? Didn’t he hear Dean’s pleads?

“And have you had sex before during your trip?”

“No.”

Castiel’s cold and calculating look disappeared and was replaced by a dark grin. “Then you are in for the ride of your life.”

He took Dean’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together.

Dean was blown to pieces.

Fire in all colours erupted from their lips, roaring around them, flames rising sky-high, burning his skin. Only one way to put out the flames before they consumed his flesh.

It was a frenzy of ripping off clothes and getting as much skin-on-skin contact as possible, Dean’s mouth pressing against every bit of nakedness he came upon. The world seemed so  _loud_ , a cacophony of heartbeats and ragged breaths, wet sounds of lips on skin and it all slowly being joined by ever-growing moans and groans.

When they were finally both completely naked, Castiel, to Dean’s great fury, took a step back. “So beautiful like this,” he said softly, “gold, green, freckles, pupils blown, hair -”

With a growl Dean was on him, shutting him up with a sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. He groaned deeply as Castiel reciprocated, tasting every corner of his mouth while resolutely pushing him to the bed.

“Gonna make you feel it, Dean,” the shorter man growled, “gonna make you fly. Make you soar.”

He pressed his naked body against Dean’s, already blowing the man’s mind with just that, and he knew it. He’d seen the effect of Sue, all the different effects, had always been that unseen bystander in the corner that observed everything from a distance and knew more than the actual junkies, almost knew more than Meg even.

He knew exactly the power he had over Dean right now.

And though sex was always amazing, it was that power, the desperation that those under the influence of the Red Woman had for his touch, the begging, the need, the  _power_ , what made his pupils dilate until there was barely anything left visible of that electric blue, until he looked possessed. Drunk on power. On dominance. On sex.

There was a reason Castiel would never take Sue himself. And it was very simple – he didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. And there was no-one stupid enough to slip it to him, nothing to corrupt him to feel her lure. He had everything he wanted right here.

He loomed over Dean, could see the need in his eyes, the desperation. So perfect. Sue turned humans into Play-Doh, his to knead and play with. And this latest little toy wasn’t just Sam’s older brother, forbidden by the big guy for anyone to touch, but also  _staggeringly beautiful_.

Castiel leaned in, and Dean’s eyes widened. So hyped up, the younger man was so responsive. Castiel grinned and licked the seam of Dean’s lips. Not coaxing, not suggesting, not even tasting. Playing.  _Marking._  And Dean couldn’t help but gasp.

Castiel moved down to suck on his plaything’s neck, fully intending on leaving a beautiful bruise. Sam and his rules could go to hell, they meant nothing to him. He was going to mark Dean as his own for everyone to see.

Dean arched up with a hoarse groan, forcing out his name, or as much as he managed to get out – “C- Cas…”

The movement brought both men’s erections back to attention again, rubbing against each other and trailing precome everywhere. Castiel chuckled. “You seem very eager,” he remarked, his mouth pressed against twitching muscles.

“Cas!”

“I’m going to need the magic word, Dean,” Castiel said warningly.

For a moment it was silent, and the shorter man let his fingers trail over the other’s cock ever so lightly, drawing a hoarse shout from him. The first time was always the most intense. Perhaps that was why they kept demanding more and more, trying desperately to find that first fire again.

“Please!”

With a growl Castiel plunged his head down and bit hard into the base of Dean’s neck. This made the younger man actually scream, but his cock pulsed out precome, letting Castiel know it was still pleasurable.

But if he was honest, he really didn’t care. What he  _did_  care about was leaving a mark in the shape of a C, his own mark, known by everyone who needed to know. Personalised. Claimed.  _Castiel’s to play with until he grew bored again._  If Dean knew what had happened to Castiel’s previous disregarded toys…

But Castiel already knew that he was going to keep this one for quite a while. He felt something with this one. A thrill that he hadn’t felt in a while.

He looked up, and his blue gaze locked Dean’s crazed green. It nearly stopped his breath. Nearly.

He reached up again and kissed the younger man deeply, feeling him moan and squirm underneath. He huffed out a laugh. Always so impatient. But he  _had_  pleaded. And so Castiel finally went down on him. Second time on Sue, first time sex with her in his system. Castiel saw it as his duty to truly and utterly blow Dean’s mind.

He propped up the man’s legs and spread them a little, bringing his cock on perfect display as well as bringing his hole into view. Two beautiful things, ripe for the taking.  _His for the taking._

Dean felt the tip of a tongue draw a lazy stripe up his cock, causing him to actually  _mewl_  and buck his hips. This was torture of the sweetest form, feeling the electricity spark through his dick while the rest of his body was on fire, begging for touch, for attention,  _anything_. He brought up his own hands to chase the flames dancing over his skin, but it wasn’t enough.

“Pl- Cas,  _please!_ ” The little nickname now all he could say, not even bothering anymore with the rest of the man’s name.

Castiel chuckled again. He reached up his hands and splayed them out on Dean’s stomach, feeling the heated skin and rolling abs as the man arched into his touch. He then brought his head down, and in one smooth move took Dean almost completely into his mouth.

All Dean’s muscles locked up, his breath halted, he could swear even his heart gave an achingly painful squeeze before stopping. In fact, the entire world had stopped. Dust particles suspended in the air next to him, sweat glistening but frozen in their descent down his chest and hips, even the flames on his skin frozen.

It lasted a lifetime.

Then, suddenly, air rushed back into his lungs again. His hips bucked upwards and he frantically grabbed Castiel’s hair, trying to pull him off,  _too much stimulation_ , desperately hold him in place and push him down to take more of his cock down his throat,  _not enough stimulation!_  How could he not have come yet?

And Castiel opened his throat, taking more down, his tongue lapping and swirling while his cheeks were hollowing and he sucked and swallowed and Dean’s mind went white, everything went white, blinding white.

But even now it wasn’t over. He could actually feel the drugs racing through his blood, burning in his veins, keeping him flying, and Castiel raising that to the level of soaring. It was the drugs he felt, what heightened his sensations. But the hormones were something else. Just slightly below that. Pure pleasure while the orgasm still took its sweet time.

That was almost too perfect to be a random effect.

But who cared? All thought and awareness of anything but  _Cas_  flew out the window as the man’s mouth left his dick, exposing it to cold air that was doing nothing to lower his temperature.

And then, suddenly, that tongue was back. Circling his entrance.

Dean arched his back as he cried out. “ _Cas!_ ”

Cas laughed hoarsely, his voice even more wrecked than normal by the throat-fucking of a second ago.

“I’ve played with men and women alike,” he spoke, “so many even in this state refusing many things and wanting none of it, but  _you_ , Dean, you want it all, desperate, such a little slut, my personal man-whore…”

Dean nodded in his delirium. “Yes, Cas, all yours, want it all, make me yours, give it all,  _please_ …”

Castiel’s tongue lapped at his hole, circled it,  _breached it_. Stretching it up nicely.

Dean’s eyes rolled back as the orgasm suddenly rushed in, but as he was about to erupt and come all over his own stomach, the other man grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed.

“Not until I tell you to,” he growled. “Play nice, Dean, or we won’t play at all.”

Dean nodded, tears streaming from his eyes as he tried, he tried so hard. But he was drugged up and his body wasn’t as perfectly under his control as it was normally and it was  _fucking difficult_.

“Dean?” A warning.

“’M good,” he huffed out after a minute. His own voice was starting to sound like Castiel’s.

“Good boy,” Castiel muttered before diving back into the younger man’s ass.

Dean knew that if he would give even an inch now, he would lose it. So he kept his body locked up, his muscles shaking with effort, but it was working. Everything was spinning though; he could feel the G-forces of the Earth nearly throwing him off the planet, hurtling through space. His eyes rolled further back until there was nothing but white. Sweat poured down his body. The only proof of his delirium still being joyful was his cock, pulsing and thick and so full of blood it was dark red. And all the while Castiel was opening him up, preparing him for even more to come.

And then, finally, pressure, a slight burn that was magnified a thousandfold but pressure,  _sweet perfect pressure filling a hole that had never been there before tonight, a hole created just for Castiel – or by Castiel?_

Dean clamped down on it, and Castiel grunted. “Dean,” he warned, and the younger man mewled in the realisation of his mistake. The sheets were properly getting soaked with sweat, precome, lube, and his tears, which were still streaming down past his temples.

But  _thank the gods_  Castiel saw his guilt and pain, and leaned in, pressure increasing with it, to give him a small kiss on the lips. “Nearly there, Dean,” he muttered in his voice that rolled like thunder in Dean’s ears. “You’re doing really well. Nearly there.”

And Dean just nodded, crying, whispering “ _please_ ” over and over again, seeing each movement deep inside him flashing like electric blue fireworks behind his eyelids, filling his vision, his world, until there was nothing but  _Castiel_.

The older man held his stare, blue locking with green, as he finally,  _finally_ , started rolling his hips, bucking, canting, thrusting.

_ Sparks and flashes burning Dean, sizzling in his mind, on his retina, everywhere. _  He gasped and arched upward as a spot inside him was struck. If he thought the world was on fire earlier, then this was the heart of a star, of an atomic bomb burning everything to nothing. It didn’t hurt – it – there was no explanation, no words to describe it. Just fire and lightning and  _Jesus fucking Christ ALIVE_.

Each breath that came out of Dean was like cloth being ripped, air getting torn from his lungs. No groans, no moans, no mewls. Just those ragged breaths, sound itself getting torn apart. They were only joined by the obscene sounds of wet skin slapping on skin – for Castiel made no sounds either apart from his own soft but ragged breaths.

“Dean,” the blessed words came, “I’m going to come. I want you to clamp down on me, now, Dean. Milk me dry. My cockslut.”

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

Guttural moan – “ _Mine._ ”

And Dean could feel it, the hot sticky wetness inside him, the sensation of it shot up through his body. And finally he was allowed to let go. He threw his head back and  _screamed_.

The electric blue glowed brighter and brighter until it was white.

Everything turned white.

Dean kept screaming.

Then everything turned black.

~666~

Sam’s empty gaze was on the monitor that showed his brother unconscious on his own bed, covered in his own come. He watched without emotion as Castiel pulled out of his older brother, gave another soft bite to accentuate the already made mark, and walked up to the camera, completely naked, his penis going soft again, glistening with saliva and his own spend.

He stared out from the screen, straight at Sam, his gaze as cold as the Winchester’s.

And he laughed.

Sam finally turned away, though his face was still expressionless.

“Ash, delete the footage.”

“Yes boss.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, maybe you're interested in reading my other big Spn fic, Purity regained? Looking back, I actually realise there's quite a few little parrallels with this one. (It's Wincestiel though, where this story is not.) It contains some recommendations of other good fics in a few author's notes. You don't have to read it, of course. Just an idea. But yeah, I received some kind words, thank you so much! They really help, especially after such a smutty chapter.. Anyway, chapter 8 now! Enjoy :)

The world was colourless.

It was dark.

Tasteless.

Without smell.

Blurred.

Muffled.

Dean blinked a few times, but it didn’t make much of a difference. One thing he did notice though, was a deep ache setting in his bones, an ache that was strongest in his ass.

It took him a second of wading through the memories that were a blur, a whirlwind of colour and fire roaring in his mind, but then he finally pulled out the image of a face. Tussled dark hair, electric blue eyes staring into his soul. A voice like thunder rumbling in the distance to match his eyes.

And naked skin.

Sweat.

Crying.

A bite? He reached for his neck and winced when a sharp stab of pain hit him. He could trace the mark. Yeah. Definitely a bite.

So much naked skin, stimulation, fullness, pounding.

And he remembered soaring through space. He remembered his own screams getting ripped from him in the best orgasm of his life. Getting lifted up by the colours and getting sling-shotted into the atmosphere, beyond the atmosphere, beyond the moon. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him he had landed in the nuclear heart of the sun.

It would explain why everything felt so cold and dead now.

It took Dean a bit more digging into his brain to drag up a name to match these sensations, but then he had it.

_Castiel._

Or was it Sue?

No, Sue was the drug.

_FUCK._

He jumped out of bed, which was definitely a mistake, because the room started spinning madly. The door of the room opened immediately, and Ellen came rushing in to catch him before he fell over and hit his head on the bedpost.

“I took drugs, Ellen,” Dean managed to bring out between harsh breaths. The woman nodded sternly. “I know, Dean. Now let’s get you back on that bed.”

Once he was properly sat down again, Dean frowned. “How do you know?”

“Sam asked me to keep an eye on you when you woke up. He told me what happened.”

For a split second Dean wondered if that included his visit from Castiel. He wondered how much Sam knew about that. He quickly shook off the thoughts though.

“Does Jo know?”

“No,” Ellen answered to his relief. “Out of the staff you met officially, it’s me, Meg, Ash and Charlie who know about the fact that there are things going on in this house involving drugs. Ash keeps an eye on the CCTV footage, so that’s how he knows, but Charlie only knows that there’s dodgy things going on because she occasionally helps out in the med-bay. Garth has his suspicions of course, but he really has no idea.”

She handed him a glass of water, which he downed within seconds.

“So what’s going to happen to me now?” Dean asked as he gave Ellen back the glass. She let out a small sigh. It sounded so foreign from her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The detox takes weeks. If you still want to leave, you can, but you’ll have to face it on your own. You can also stay here, go through the withdrawal, and leave afterwards.”

She aimed her gaze directly at Dean, and he felt himself shrink away from it a little, though its effect was nowhere near as powerful as Castiel’s. “Dean, what have you done?”

He dropped his gaze. He knew her well, and he realised what she wasn’t saying. He had painted himself into a corner. Dean had caught a glimpse of the life in this house, and he understood why Ellen wanted to keep him around. He’d be a relief next to the stressful atmosphere Sam seemed to create. But if he wanted to stay and be useful right now, then he couldn’t go through the withdrawal. He had to stay alert.

And for that he needed to continue taking Sue.

That was something Ellen could never voice, she could never actually ask Dean to take drugs for her.

So Dean had three options. None of them seemed very appealing.

Although…

He had soared.

He leaned in and kissed Ellen on her forehead. “Don’t worry, Ellen. I’m staying.”

She cast him a sombre smile as she left the room, and he gave a little nod back.

He was determined to keep his mind from asking whether he did it for Ellen or for Sue.

~666~

As Dean walked to the kitchen, he could hear voices. For a moment he thought about eavesdropping again, but that idea was ruined when the door opened and he found himself face to face with Jo.

“Dean!”

“Hey Jo,” he smiled weakly.

God, he felt shitty. Everything was aching and burning inside of him, but his dulled down senses made it feel a little less prominent. It did mean though that the entire world, including his own thoughts, there was a haze on it which he couldn’t shake, like water clogging up his ears. Jo seemed to notice some of his discomfort.

“Are you hung-over?” she asked, crossing her arms but keeping a glint in her eye.

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean huffed in response. “Can I get breakfast now?”

She stepped aside while rolling her eyes. “Dean, it’s half past two. You’re getting a late lunch.”

He groaned as he sat down at the small table. “Figures.” This made Jo laugh, and the sound of it brought a smile to Dean’s face. “So, what does a guy have to do to get some food around here?”

“How about make it himself?” the girl retorted. “If you’re gonna stick around, you’d just as well learn the ins and outs of the kitchen.”

The door opened before Dean could come up with a clever comeback, and Garth came walking in, panting as he sat down next to Dean. “Damn, the basement is a  _mess_! I’ve been cleaning it up for the past three hours now and I’m still not done! So, what’s for lunch?”

Jo threw up her arms and left the kitchen with a dramatic “Men!”, leaving Garth looking very puzzled and Dean laughing. Garth seemed to understand quite quickly though. He got up and walked over to the counter.

“Anything I can make you, Dean?”

The Winchester bit his lip, contemplating. “Well, anything for a hangover would do,” he eventually said.

“Two omelettes with extra bacon and bread, coming up!”

It turned out that Garth actually made an excellent breakfast. Dean thanked the boy excessively. After all, he’d practically assaulted him yesterday. Clearly Garth just had a very big heart and was big on forgiveness.

The breakfast had to get spoiled of course, by none other than head nurse Megabitch.

“Morning, sunshine. How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” he snapped back. He would’ve said something harsher, but he felt inclined to watch his language with Garth around for some reason. Meg just snorted. “Oh I’m sure,” she commented.

She sat down next to him and grabbed his face. “Hey, what the hell!?” Dean exclaimed as she shone a flashlight into his eyes.

“How are you feeling? Good? Bad? Dizzy? Ill?”

Garth frowned. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean waved it away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Garth. I had a few drinks too many.”

“So you drank something?”

“Hey, if you’re afraid someone spiked my drink, they didn’t, okay? People are smarter than that. I’m Dean Winchester, I’m the boss’ older brother, they’re not just gonna spike my drink.”

Garth gave him another worried glance, but Dean waved him away again. “Garth, I’m fine! Now go back to what you were doing before Ellen comes after you.” Upon hearing this the boy nodded and quickly fled the scene.

Dean watched him go and then tried to swat Meg’s hand away. “Look, I appreciate your concern…”

“Oh, this ain’t concern, cupcake, this is gathering data. You’re a test subject.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thank you, God knows what you caught last night.”

Dean felt himself turn bright red, but he kept his comments to himself. Meg just took that as a confirmation and laughed. “Relax, cupcake. It’s just sex. Though since you were drugged up, I’m guessing you didn’t use protection?”

Dean furiously pulled his face from her grasp. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Actually, that is exactly my business. Nurse, remember? Now, you might not like me, but I do kinda like my job. Discretion is just another part of it. So do you want me to run some tests to be sure?”

He bit his lip. Should he? Who knew how many people that guy had screwed. “Fine,” he spat.

“Well then, come by at the med-bay tomorrow, we’ll do the stuff we need to do.” She got up. “Any more questions?”

“Yes,” he suddenly realised. “How long before I start getting withdrawal symptoms? Just so I know how long I can go without Sue while still being able to function.”

Meg gave a small nod as she put her stuff into her bag. “About a week,” she answered, “though that period gets shorter the longer you take the drug.”

Dean frowned. “But I was ill immediately after the party last time.”

“Yeah,” she said while managing to look casually guilty, “that’s ‘cause I gave you stuff that made you ill. It wasn’t until after a week when you started going through withdrawal.”

“ _What!?_ ”

“Hey, orders from the boss,” she said with a lazy smile. “I’m just doing what I’m told. You were too nosy, and you were going to feel ill anyway, so Sam thought it was easier this way to keep you in the dark a little longer.”

Dean’s clouded mind became sharper for a moment. “ _Sam?_   _Sam_  gave the order for you to fucking  _poison_  me!?”

They were interrupted by the door opening again.  _Oh, speak of the devil._

Dean walked over to his little brother and punched him square in the jaw.

“What the hell, Dean!?”

“No, Sam, don’t you fucking dare!” Dean roared at the other Winchester. “Ever since I came here you’ve been fucking me up in ways that I never thought you were capable of! Your girlfriend drugs me  _for the giggles_ , your nurse  _poisons_  me -”

“For your own good!”

“No, Sam, that’s not an excuse you get to make! You’re my little brother! My whole life it was me looking after you! And I come here and you do  _this_  to me!?  _This!_  I’m your  _brother_ , Sammy! Don’t you remember me? Don’t you remember us? What we’ve been through together? Don’t you remember everything that lies behind us?”

Sam straightened his back, his gaze cold. “Of course I remember, Dean. But you’ve said it beautifully – that lies behind us. Things have changed. I’m doing what I think is best. I’m not a little kid anymore, Dean. I know exactly what I’m doing. And I know this is going to sound like utter bullshit, but you’re going to have to trust me, my actions. I’m doing them for a good reason.”

Dean felt like punching his little brother again, knock some sense into him. But even John had never beaten them for the sake of that, he had only ever laid his hands on his boys when he snapped, which had rarely happened. And Dean couldn’t do that to Sam. Not even to this Sam. He took care of his little brother. The right way.

“You want me to trust you, Sam, but to me it just looks like you’ve lost your fucking mind. That bitch, Ruby, she brainwashed you.”

Sam sighed. “Look, I can see perfectly clearly the influence people around me have, or try to have, on me.”

“I don’t think you do -”

The younger brother held up his hand. “I do. I can see it all. Trust me, Dean. Just roll with it. You’ll get what I’m playing at eventually. I can’t explain, but eventually, you  _will_  get it. It’s all politics. Please. I’m not asking for much. Just… just trust me. Just roll with it.”

Dean felt all his energy drain, his temples throbbing a little. He looked at his little brother for a moment, then finally let out a long sigh. “Okay.  _Okay._  Last chance.  _The last one_ , you hear me?”

Sam nodded. It was only because Dean knew him so well that he saw the tiniest bit of relief seeping through his cold mask.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, which was growing too long again like always. The familiarity of the gesture made Dean smile just a little. “Eh, anyway, what I came here for… Oh yeah. I was going to ask you to join Meg as she goes out for a supply run.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Dude, online orders.”

Sam shook his head. “Those are traced.”

Oh. So it was that kind of a supply errand.

“Well, I’m not a nurse-sitter. Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Sitting right here, you know.”

“Shut up, Meg.”

It was now Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows, his gaze cold again. “No, Dean, I’m asking  _you_  to go. Make yourself useful.”

“But why can’t you do it?”

“Because I have better stuff to do.” And with that he left.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean groaned. He turned to the nurse, who was twirling an injection needle between her fingers with a bored expression on her face.

“So what do you say, cupcake? Ready for a road trip?”

Dean groaned inwardly. Oh, this was going to be  _hell_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to leave a little comment or even a request! I'm uploading a little series of Destiel one-shots called 'A fever you can't sweat out' as well, and I'd love you guys if you would send me situations you'd like to see the boys in! (Teaser: chapter 3 will be a genderbender ;) ) Seriously though, that particular fic will only stay up and running with requests and little ideas! Don't be shy, send me anything, I'll only love you for it :) So review, request, and most importantly have a nice day :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, big-ass writing hiatus for my multichapter fics. My sincerest apologies. Sadly though my writing won't go back to being as regular as it was before the holidays (yet). I'm really busy at the moment... But you're not here for me, you're here for my story! So onward! And enjoy :)

Dean was sitting behind the wheel of his Baby, gritting his teeth. So far Meg hadn’t really seemed to be able to understand the concept of “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole” and had actually  _turned the radio off_. Combining the anger over that with the fact that his ass was incredibly fucking sore but refusing to let the nurse take the wheel so he could lie down on the back seat, Dean was just about ready to punch someone. Hard. Preferably Meg.

“Take the next exit off the highway.”

“Why don’t  _you_  take the fucking exit,” Dean muttered under his breath. Meg just raised her eyebrows and let out an amused huff.

“What are you, on your period? Haven’t seen you so prickly yet. What’s eating at you?”

Dean took the exit and quickly pulled over the Impala. He then turned to the nurse, wincing at the sudden movement. “You wanna know what’s eating at me? You are. You and this whole fucking business. That Ruby bitch. The drugs. And I wanna be angry at Sam too, but I can’t! Because even now I still feel like it’s not his fault, not completely. But he’s up to his armpits in this pile of shit, and now I’m actually joining him of my own free will. What the fuck is even wrong with me!? And  _you_  are in no way helping my mood!”

Meg tilted her head a little. “What did you do? You’re in pain, Dean. Did you injure yourself?”

“I – what?”

“Dean.  _I’m a nurse._  Will you for once just trust me and let me do my job.”

Dean felt himself blush. Damn it, he hadn’t blushed since high school. This was embarrassing.

_ But why though? _  He’d been aware of the fact that he was bi for almost half his life now.

He had never been bottom before though.

“I had sex,” he answered while trying to avoid Meg’s gaze.

“Uhuh. And? Did she ask you to be more flexible than you really are?”

Dean’s anger was suddenly gone.

She didn’t know.

She actually didn’t know.

This probably meant that there weren’t rumours going around, that it wasn’t common knowledge yet who Dean had fucked.

“Not that kind of sex.”

Meg stared at him blankly for a moment, but then it dawned on her. “Oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but kept avoiding her gaze.

“So did you get enough prep?”

“Oh my  _God_ , seriously, I’m fine! I took it up the ass, I didn’t break in half! Maybe the prep could’ve been better, yeah, but honestly, it’s  _fine_. You never done anal before?”

This actually managed to make Meg laugh. “Of course I did, Cupcake,” she replied. “But good to know that you weren’t split in half. I can still check for injuries once we arrive at the motel if you want…”

Dean threw up his hands. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. My ass is fine. Bruised but fine. Please. No.”

Meg gave another chuckle. “Okay, well, it still sounds to me like it was a rough night. Any other injuries I might need to check out?”

Dean finally looked at her, giving her a pissed-off frown. “You’re just looking for excuses to see me naked.”

She shrugged. “Well, I can’t deny that you’re a hot little stud muffin, but it really is just the nurse thing. So, injuries?”

Dean swallowed. He remembered the bite mark. That couldn’t be sanitary. “Okay, I’ve got a… a wound in my neck. You can check that out.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a sweet smile.

“Weird ass workaholic.”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Just shut up and give directions.”

“I hope you realise that’s kind of contradictive?”

“ _Just give the damn directions._ ”

~666~

“Bend over.”

“Jesus, I told you,  _no!_ ”

“Look, Cupcake, I’m doing this for your own good. Your neck isn’t bothering you at the moment. Your ass is. And your shifting and wincing is grinding my gears. So, pretty please.  _Bend. Over._ ”

Dean was ready to kill the bitch.

He pulled down his pants and turned around, then placed his hands on the bedpost and bent over. He jumped a little when two gloved hands touched his cheeks, but bit his lip and tried his best to keep himself in check. He was starting to understand why horses tended to kick someone standing behind them.

There was a bit of surprisingly gentle touching, which still hurt like a bitch. Last night really  _had_  been rough. For a second the image of two vivid blue eyes popped up on his retina, and Dean actually had to keep himself from sucking in a breath at that.

“So what’s the damage?”

“Outer damage could be worse, few little bits of tearing and quite a bit of bruising, but nothing infected or in danger of getting infected. You’re safe to do a number two without giving yourself sepsis and dying. Now, I just need to check under the hood…”

“Oh  _hell no!_ ” Dean was about to pull away, but the nurse grabbed him by his hips and he hissed in sudden pain. “I could easily slip you some weird drug, Cupcake. I’ve got access to a whole range of things, loads of them untested. So what do you say? Are you going to cooperate?”

“You’re a demented bitch.”

“It’s for your own good.”

Dean barked out a laugh at that. “Yeah right, I’m sure. You love your job  _way_  too much, you know that?”

“Shut up and relax your sphincter.”

Now those were words Dean hoped not to hear from Meg ever again.

A second later he felt a few lubed-up fingers slip in. He hissed again at the burn and the chilly substance, but tried to relax as much as possible.

After about half a minute she carefully pulled out again. “You seem okay,” she said calmly as she took off the glove and tossed it in the bin.

Dean pulled up his pants with a glare. “Fucking told you so,” he muttered.

“Okay, now let’s check out that wound in your neck.”

He pulled the collar of his plaid shirt down to reveal the crescent-shaped bite mark. It actually stung, but it was less noticeable than his ass, on which he had been sitting for the past five hours.

Meg didn’t move.

“Hey, nurse,” Dean snapped, “at least tell me if it’ll get infected.”

Still no response.

“Meg?”

Her gaze went up to meet his.

“You seriously fucked up.”

Dean let go of his collar, his arm falling down by his side.

“Meg, tell me. What did I do?”

She seemed to come to her senses then. “That looks fine, probably cleaned while you were unconscious.  Office hours are over.”

“Meg!”

But the nurse ignored him. She just grabbed her coat and the room key. “I’m getting us burgers and fries. Don’t go anywhere.”

Dean wasn’t exactly planning to. Meg owed him an explanation.

~666~

“So, how long will this road trip last?” Dean asked as Meg came walking back into the motel room. She dumped her stuff on the table and brushed right past him on her way to the bathroom. “Tomorrow we do business, the morning after we go back,” she answered. “Dinner is served, by the way. Enjoy.” And with that she slammed the door closed.

Dean sent it a furious glare, but decided to eat his burger first before interrogating her. He could hear the shower turning on. Maybe he was just being ridiculous, but he actually  _hated_  Meg. With a passion. The only thing that kept her from sharing the Bitch trophy with Ruby was her professionalism. She probably was an amazing nurse. She just happened to have no problem with experimenting on people. And now everything she did, whether it was taking a shower or talking or even  _breathing_ , made Dean want to punch her hard.

He ate the meal in silence, and when she re-emerged from the bathroom with her hair in a towel, he tossed his napkin and turned towards her. “So, what’s up with the bite-mark?”

Meg sighed. “What have you been told?”

“The guy called himself an entrepreneur. He said he and Sam have their differences, but Sam can’t order him around.”

“Oh I bet he said that,” Meg scoffed. “And what did Sam tell you about him?”

Dean frowned. “Nothing. Never even mentioned his existence.”

“Yeah, you’re still new to the business, so that doesn’t surprise me either,” the nurse responded. “Look, if Sam didn’t say anything, then neither will I. I’m just gonna tell you one thing: stay away from Castiel.”

“Why!? Seriously, I’m getting sick and tired of people telling me squat!”

Meg shook her head. “Just follow the damn advice, Cupcake. The guy’s dangerous. Seriously dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to stay away?” Dean spat back. “Don’t know what I’m supposed to be scared of, after all.”

Meg actually face-palmed at this.

“Look, Dean,” she snapped. There was a sudden fire in her eyes; it looked foreign on her face, and fucking terrifying. “I get it. Why listen to Meg, right? What does she know better than Dean? Well I know a fuckload more. So if you refuse to stop with Castiel, then at least try to see him as little as possible.”

“Why would you care?” Dean hissed.

“Because Sam will have my hide if you die.”

_ If you die. _

“Okay fine,” Dean grumbled. “Don’t even dare to say I owe you one, though.”

“As if I’d ever need your help.”

“Stuff it, bitch.”

Meg rolled her eyes, then went back to the bags she put on the table. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Excuse me?” Dean spluttered.

“A gun, sunshine.”

She placed a revolver on the table, next to Dean’s food.  He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“What did you think I brought you along for, charades? You’re my back-up, genius. Now,  _can you use a gun?_ ”

Dean picked up the weapon and checked the magazine. “Magnum 357,” he stated, “six bullets mag.” He clicked it closed again. “Dad used to take me and Sam hunting. Sam would be the one to sit by the side reading while dad taught me everything he knew about guns.”

He looked up at the nurse, who looked a bit more relieved. “Not the most effective gun in a gunfight, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “It’s the first thing I could get my hands on right now. You’re gonna have to do with this until we get back. I’m sure Sam’s got an arsenal for you to pick from stashed away somewhere in that house.”

Dean nodded weakly. Geez, Sam hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned GtA. “So what exactly can I expect from tomorrow?”

“Well, I’ll be doing the negotiating, you’re just there to look pretty,” Meg answered nonchalantly. “If everything goes well, we’ll be done before you know it.”

“So why are you doing it like this?” Dean asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you need protection, you’re probably getting big batches, right? So why not just go small and go often?”

“Because,” she replied, “we need big batches. We’re not just producing, we’re still mixing the ingredients and experimenting with the stuff. The recipe isn’t finished yet, if you like. So we need as much as we can get. And we don’t have the time or manpower to ‘go small and often’.”

“So you’re the only one getting ingredients?” Dean frowned.

“I didn’t say that. There’s just less people going out and getting the stuff we need. Ash is one of them -”

“I thought Ash just did security?”

Meg snorted. “All day, every day? Not really. His life is not  _that_  bad.”

“But Ellen said -”

“Yeah, Ellen doesn’t know everything, Dean. For example, she doesn’t realise how much Jo knows about what’s going on.”

This shut Dean up for a moment.

“How much  _does_  she know?” he then asked tentatively.

“She and Charlie talk,” Meg shrugged. “And sometimes I talk to her too. She knew I was slipping you poison.”

Dean’s mouth went dry.

Jo had known.

He couldn’t even trust her.

“Why didn’t she say?”

“Because Jo is smart. She knows what to keep to herself if she wants to stay in one piece.”

_Jesus._  Okay. Dean had seriously underestimated the stress people were under in this household.

“So,” he said croakily and he quickly cleared his throat, “so who else is an errand boy? What do people do in the business? Who is who?”

Meg’s expression softened again. “Well, Zachariah likes to pretend he’s important and dangerous, but in fact he’s just a pathetic low-life dick, so it’s always funny to see his face when he gets sent out for errands. He knows what he’s doing though.”

“Zachariah?”

“Balding guy in a suit.”

Dean was pretty sure he had seen the man in the Pit, looking over the crowd with a clip-board in his hand. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen his face.”

Meg nodded. “There’s Crowley, who’s awesome with numbers and contracts and loopholes. He usually sets up the shopping lists for us, with help from Kevin, of course. They’re…”

“Yeah, I’ve met them,” Dean interrupted.

“Okay. Well, Crowley spends most of his spare time in the lab, pestering Kevin, pushing him around, you know. I’m pretty sure he has the hots for the kid. Personally, I’m a bit grossed out by it, but Kevin doesn’t seem to put up much of a fight, and they work they deliver is fine, so there’s really no need for an intervention there.”

Dean thought back to when he walked into the lab. He could mostly remember colours pulsing around him, but he also remembered the way Crowley had been towards Kevin. Yeah, he could see what Meg meant. A shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t really like that thought either.

“Anyway, Crowley also helps out with legal stuff. He shares an office with our main lawyer, Michael.”

“The douche who was handing out Sue?”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t like him.”

“Most people don’t like him,” Meg remarked. “He holds power because he knows his shit, but he doesn’t show it, he makes it look like he’s just a dealer. I’m pretty sure even his brothers can’t stand him, even though they often had to work together.”

“Brothers?”

“He has four – no, sorry, three. Raphael died. There’s Gabriel, who’s supposed to be in jail, though no-one knows for sure. I mean, the guy’s escaped like five different prisons so far.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sounds impressive.”

“Yeah, if you ignore the fact that that means he got caught five times too. Well, six times now.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, fair enough. Maybe he does it out of boredom. Let’s himself get caught.”

Meg nodded. “From what I’ve heard about the guy, that sounds pretty accurate. What was I saying again? Oh yeah, Michael’s brothers. Yeah, Gabriel’s one. Then there’s Lucifer, I heard he’s a lawyer too, though I’m not sure that’s true. No-one has a clue where he is, or if he’s even involved in this whole business. People don’t really talk about him. And I really wouldn’t mention him to Michael. Not if you value your life.”

Dean gave a little nod. “Duly noted.” He wasn’t gonna promise anything though. “So what about the fourth brother?”

The nurse’s face became a mask again. “Castiel.”

“Let me guess, that’s all you’re gonna say?”

“How accurate is your shooting?”

“Accurate enough. Meg?”

“You should go to bed early. I need you sharp tomorrow.”

Well, at least Dean knew more than before. That was a nice change.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean tried his best to focus on the purr of the engine to help him relax, but his ass was still a bit sore, and he kept shifting in his seat. After a while Meg got so sick of it that she actually decided to try and distract him. How thoughtful of her.

“I really hope I don’t have to tell you this, but when we get there, don’t shoot your gun. Don’t even wave it at them.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. Okay, that got his attention. “Why the hell did you give me the thing then?”

“For the same reason I’m bringing you; to look pretty,” she replied. “Look, just keep it in sight, but don’t whip it out unless they try to shoot first. Okay?”

“You mind explaining why?”

Meg sighed and rolled her eyes. “Really have to spell it all out for you, don’t I, Cupcake? Sam doesn’t want a war on his hands. It’s as simple as that. If we make the first move, that’s a guarantee for a war. If they make the first move, we have no choice. But we need to keep our options open right now. So that gun is, just like you, for show. To show that they can’t just mess around, and to make sure they won’t kidnap me or anything. So if they suddenly demand a higher price than first, you don’t push that gun in their faces. Just let me do the talking, alright?”

Dean nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know what he was doing anyway, something that became clearer by the minute. This sucked. So far the best part of the job had been the gun, and he didn’t even get to wave it.

Taking Sue and fucking Castiel didn’t count as parts of the job.

Great, now he could feel his ass throb again.

He put on some music, but Megabitch  _fucking turned it off again_. Dean gritted his teeth as his hands twisted the leather of the steering wheel a little.

“And what’s wrong with the music?”

“Can’t have your mind somewhere else.”

“It relaxes me.”

“So you’re nervous?”

Dean threw his hands up, but quickly grabbed the wheel again to prevent a crash. “Hell yeah I’m nervous! This is my first time negotiating with a dealer about stuff I don’t even know, and a lot of it too. Big amounts of money, dangerous substances, guys with guns… So yeah, I’m fucking nervous!”

“Good. I need you nervous. Keeps you sharp. And that’s what I need. As long as you remind yourself not to pull out that gun unless one of us is about to die. So no twitchy fingers please.”

_ Don’t shoot her, don’t shoot her, don’t shoot her… _

They arrived about ten minutes later. It was the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, a random abandoned barn. Dean suddenly felt the nerves really hit him. He had no idea what he was doing. There were no other cars to be seen, so he couldn’t estimate how many people there would be waiting for them. If they were about to walk into a trap or not. He didn’t know  _anything_.

“So, eh, has this gone wrong before?”

Meg shook her head. “If it had, I wouldn’t have just you as my bodyguard. Hell, I’d probably not have a rooky like you at all. Seriously, I don’t know what Sam is doing, sending you out like this without teaching you anything.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Dean muttered, continuing to scan his surroundings. At least that was something he could do, always on the lookout for movement. His dad had trained him quite well during hunts.

Meg had a very good point, though. What the fuck was Sam doing? Did he  _want_  Dean to screw up and get killed or something? Nothing made sense. It was fucking  _infuriating_. Each time Dean though he had some questions answered, more popped up.

But he needed to focus. This was a dangerous thing to do. He suddenly realised that Meg had been right, he had every right to be nervous, and he needed to be, to keep that edge of adrenaline. If things went wrong, they could die.

_Shit._

This was definitely not GTA. This was not a game. This was real. And it was fucking deadly.

_ No twitchy fingers _ , he had to actively remind himself. It was difficult though. He felt a sudden need to grab his gun, hold it so that he wouldn’t be caught off guard. Damn it, he need to work on his reflexes.

“Dean.”

Right, reality.

They walked into the barn, and to Dean’s relief they weren’t ridiculously outnumbered, as far as he could see. Maybe Sam made a deal that both parties were only allowed to bring a limited amount of back-up.

The guy was Asian, to Dean’s surprise. He didn’t know why it surprised him, but hey, maybe that was just stereotypes. It made it hard to judge his age, but what Dean found more frustrating and worrying was that he couldn’t get a read off him. Like, nothing. Stony-faced Asian man in his late somewhere-under-eighties. In case he would ever have to talk to the police. Now that was a funny thought.

Meg gave him a little nod. “Clark.”

Dean bit hit tongue. He was not going to mock  _Clark_. It might get him killed.

Still.  _Clark_. He had to hold back a snigger.

Clark nodded back. “Miss Masters. I assume you have the payment?”

“Same as always, I have the first ten percent and the rest you will receive in your bank account over the next week.”

Dean frowned. Really? That seemed a bit… strange. He ignored it, though. He was here to look pretty. Questions could be asked later. They might never be answered, but he decided to ignore that for the moment.

Meg passed over an envelope. Huh. That was another strange thing. Not a big suitcase with millions of dollars. Just an envelope. Granted, it looked full, but still.

Clark checked it, gave another nod, then pulled a little chemistry vial from his pocket. This was getting weirder by the minute. Meg opened it, dipped a little bit of special paper in it that turned from faded red to blue and tucked it away. They were given nine more vials, Meg calmly said “It was a pleasure doing business.”

And that was it.

They left the barn, and Dean had absolutely no fucking clue what just happened.

Once they were on the highway again, he finally spoke up.

“You’re gonna have to explain to me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Cupcake.”

“I know Sam won’t tell me anything. Come on. Indulge me.”

Meg sighed. “Yeah. Fine. Okay, so I paid him ten percent, he gave me ten percent. We can’t travel with more unless we have a permit, and getting one would draw attention. It would make us traceable. And if we get caught with more than we are allowed to carry with us without having a permit, we’re in deep shit.”

“Okay, but now what? Is the rest gonna come in with the next pizza delivery?”

She rolled her eyes. “No-one knows the whereabouts of Sam’s place. We’re not going to invite them over, Sam’s not that stupid.”

“Yeah well, wouldn’t think that with his behaviour lately…” Dean muttered.

Meg just shook her head. “You wanna know the ins and outs of the operation or not?”

Dean didn’t answer. She knew that he did.

“Okay, well, the rest of the batch is going to be sent up to a place quite close to Sam’s. Not too close though. They  _do_  have a permit, so they’re the ones supplying the stuff.”

“What is the ‘stuff’ anyways?” Dean cut her off.

“Just a random chemical,” Meg shrugged. “Cheap stuff. A hell of a lot cheaper than when Kevin manipulates its molecular structure and combines it with other stuff to make Sue. Trust me, we’re making  _big_  profits on this one.”

Dean nodded. “I can imagine. So then what?”

“Then we pick up the rest, keeping the travelling distance short enough to minimise the risk of getting caught. Charlie always checks the surrounding roads by hacking into the police radio to see if there’s any patrols nearby.”

“And the payments? I mean, if you pay through a bank account it’s traceable, right?”

Meg smiled. “It would be. But we’ve got both Ash and Charlie working on that. Charlie doesn’t know exactly what she’s helping with, she knows it’s money business and that it’s illegal, but by the time she checks for cracks in their smoke screen, Ash usually did most of the work in completely rerouting everything. Charlie is better than FBI, and no, you don’t want to know how we know that, so when she tries to trace back the origins of the money and completely fails we know it’s water-tight. They’ve been practicing that routine for months before actually getting to work on it for things like this, just to make sure there were no screw-ups. So if anyone will get screwed over, it’ll be Clark and his guys for receiving suspicions amounts of money. And there is no evidence whatsoever to lead back to us.”

That was impressive. But something about this bugged Dean. It took him about ten minutes before he realised what it was.

Charlie and Ash had practiced months to keep this completely free of screw-ups. Dean had been thrown into the deep end.

~666~

That night, the dreams came back.

Dean didn’t know where he was, and it didn’t matter. All he knew was that he was scared out of his mind.

Blue lightning cracks were crawling over the walls, slowly moving in on him as he tried to back out. Except he couldn’t. When he turned around, Meg and Ruby were pinning him down, both with pitch-black eyes, holding huge needles lined with barbs. They were filled with a dark red, golden shimmering liquid.

He tried so hard, tried to struggle, but his entire body felt like it was filled with lead, he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. And then Castiel was there, fiery blue eyes glowing in the shadows, and he flashed a dazzling grin before leaning over him, running his thumb over Dean’s lips, coaxing his mouth open and pushing the finger inside until Dean was gagging. But Castiel just smiled. “Open wide, Dean,” he said. “It’s time for your medicine.”

~666~

Dean woke up screaming, flailing his arms to fight off the women who were ripping his flesh apart, but ended up hitting Meg so hard she nearly went flying. Apparently she had come speeding to his bed when he started screaming. A bit of him felt guilty, but to be honest, it was only Meg.

When he finally had his breathing under control again, he muttered an apology and quickly went to hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He looked horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands were shaking.

And somehow, despite those horrible images that had been fuelled things he had seen when under the influence of Sue, despite it having been less than a week, he was… aching. It was like an itch right under his skin, and he couldn’t scratch it. It wasn’t very strong, but it was there, and Dean was right now completely aware of it.

He stared into the mirror, hoping it would distract him from the images still reeling in his head and from the constant itch. It wasn’t working. Of course it wasn’t working. He groaned.

Okay. He needed a shower. That might help him wake up and relax, have the warm stream beat down on his sore back muscles. Yeah. That sounded good.

The water felt nice, but now he had nothing to focus his gaze on, and the images from his nightmares hit him again in full force. It only took ten seconds before he had buckled under it, down on his knees, wheezing for air.  _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

Distraction. He needed distraction. He needed it now, right now, he needed Sue, the high it brought him, ached for it, craved it, needed it. But he didn’t have Sue. So he went for the second thing that came to mind when he thought of a high.

He let his hand drop down, grabbing himself and starting to stroke. He gasped, and that managed to make him breathe a little more normally again for a moment. The touch on his dick wasn’t doing much though. He couldn’t focus, had no good mind space, needed to focus…

Terrified to do it, he closed his eyes reluctantly.

Castiel’s face filled his mind, that cold blue gaze that went right through him. Dean’s eyes flew open and he scrambled backwards, nearly slipping on the wet tiles. He took a few deep breaths. He could do this. He needed it.  _Just calm down, Winchester. You can do this._

He let his eyes slip closed again, and Castiel was back, hovering over him. “Open wide, Dean,” he said, and Dean shivered, despite the hot water beating down on him. If that was what his mind gave him, he would use it.

This time he didn’t struggle. He let his mouth fall open, let Castiel coax his thumb into his mouth. He felt it, let his tongue slip out to give it a little lick. Closed his lips around it and sucked. He could see Castiel’s face as the man’s pupils widened a little, as his gaze grew a little darker with arousal.

And Dean let out a soft moan.

His dick was slowly hardening now, becoming more sensitive to his touch, and he started stroking himself.

When Meg finally managed to force the lock and ran into the bathroom, she was faced with the image of Dean sitting on the floor tiles of the shower, thrusting his hips and sucking and licking and moaning around his own thumb while jerking of with rapid, desperate strokes, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the shower water. He came in hot spurts all over his hand, a gasped “Cas” on his lips.

She let out a little sigh, and Dean scrambled to his feet, his eyes widened in shock and a fierce blush on his face that extended down his neck and shoulders.

“He’s going to grow bored of you, Dean,” she said. “And I wanna bet it’s not gonna take much time either. You know why?”

He turned away from her, trying to hide his nakedness, his softening cock.

“Because within a month, there’ll be nothing left of you.”


	11. Chapter 11

They returned home the next day, and Dean felt exhausted. This was stressful. This whole job, this way of life, everything. Right now, he wanted to find Sam and punch him in the face again for putting him through that, but Ellen informed him that the guy had gone out, and no-one seemed to know where to.

So Dean took his gun and walked into the garden. He didn’t know what to do right now, and he had a lot of pent-up anger he needed to get rid of, so he decided some target practice was always a good idea.

He found a spot all the way at the back. Everything was green and overgrown. There was a muddy creek, a stone wall and a huge willow overshadowing all of it. He placed the differently sized pieces of fruit Ellen had given him on the stone wall, then walked back about thirty yards and aimed.

“Wait, Dean!”

With raised hands, a trembling Charlie appeared from between the willow branches, and Dean quickly lowered his gun.

“Shit, Charlie, I could’ve shot you there!”

“That’s why I called out,” she replied.

Dean tucked his gun in the back of his pants. “Can I… Can I talk to you, Charlie?”

She looked worried and slightly terrified, but then nodded. Dean sighed in relief. He took the apple from the wall and handed her the peach, then went to sit down next to her between the branches. The thick green curtain of leaves around them completely obscured the surrounding grounds, making it feel like a safe little haven. Dean suddenly felt guilty for intruding on it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “For when I… attacked you.”  _Assaulted you._  The words burned in his mind like neon.

Charlie stared into the distance, absentmindedly stroking the soft fur of the peach with her thumb. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help it.” She took a careful bite out of the piece of fruit, then showed a weak smile. “We all make mistakes,” she whispered. “We’re all human.”

Pure, burning shame rushed through Dean. “It’s not okay,” he said heatedly. “I traumatised you. And I nearly did it again! How can you tolerate me around you?”

Charlie looked up. There were tears glistening in her eyes, and she looked so small, so frail. Her next words were a whisper so low they were barely audible. “Because I have no other options. 

She was shaking now, shaking so hard the peach fell out of her hand, and Dean couldn’t think of anything else to do but throw his arms around her and hold her tight. For a second she froze, but then she hugged him back, now sobbing.

He rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay…”

She shook her head violently. “No, it’s not, it’s not…”

They stayed like that for fifteen minutes before Dean pulled back. “Tell me. Why am I the only option? What about Jo?” Stupid question. She’d known Dean was getting poisoned. “What about Ash?” He and Charlie were a team. Surely they could talk to each other.

But Charlie shook her head. “Ash is the last person I can trust.”

“What?”

She looked up at Dean with puffy red eyes. “What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell  _anyone_. Not Sam, not Ellen, not Jo, and  _definitely not Ash_.”

Dean nodded. “I promise.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I know,” she then said.

“You know what?”

“I know what Ash and I are doing. How we’re trafficking heaps of money, where to, and covering up the tracks.”

“But you were just testing out the security of his work, right? Meg said you didn’t know.”

Charlie smiled grimly and shook her head. “That’s what I do, yeah. But I know.

“Imagine an expanse of mud, with footprints in it, or maybe tire tracks. Yeah, imagine tire tracks. Ash covers them up with a fresh layer of dirt, I check if there’s any holes in his cover, and if there are, I fill them up. Then I create completely new tire tracks that lead from the recipients of the money to a random place, to throw off any investigation. When I walk back to our place from those recipients, I leave my own footprints in the fresh dirt layer, which I cover up as I go back.”

Dean nodded. This was an analogy he could understand.

“Sometimes there’s accidental holes in Ash’s work, though that’s pretty rare,” Charlie continued. “But sometimes he leaves them on purpose. I know it’s on purpose because they’re coded. Like a thin layer of ice over the hole. If I go through the hole to see what lies beneath, the ice cracks, and Ash gets notified. He keeps a close eye on me.”

Dean cursed. That was insane. She couldn’t even trust her closest colleague.

“So how do you know what goes on underneath that dirt without Ash knowing you know?” Damn, that sentence was a headache-and-a-half. But this time, Charlie’s small smile was genuine.

“He’s not as good a coder as me. I know how to go around his code, how to dig around like a mole underneath that dirt layer he applied, without leaving any trace. Breaking that layer of ice is difficult though, it’s like he set a burglar alarm on it, which I need to disable before I can break through, then rebuild the ice and reactivate the alarm. But he never found out.”

Dean grinned. “You’re a genius, Charlie.” She smiled back. But something wasn’t sitting right with Dean.

“Why do you keep pretending you don’t know? There’s plenty of people who work here who openly know what’s going on.”

The look on her face made Dean’s heart sink. “Because I’m smarter than them, Dean,” she said softly. “I’m more realistic. Nothing lasts forever, and when this place falls, those who know have to be rid of. I want to stay alive, thank you very much. And I’m doing all I can to optimise my chances.”

Dean could hear the thoughts underneath her words – it would probably not be enough. She knew names and faces. She was in too deep. Maybe, just maybe, they would try to bribe her to keep her mouth shut with whatever they had been holding over her to get her here, the knowledge that told them she was better than FBI. But most likely, she wouldn’t make it out.

Dean felt torn between wrapping her in his arms again until the sky would come crashing down on them or scream. In the end, he decided to ask her another question.

“So why are you telling me this? Why trust me?”

“Because I needed to tell someone, or I would lose my mind.”

Everything about this made Dean’s blood run cold. The stress Ellen, Jo, everyone, was under, it was worse than he imagined. So much worse. Inevitable death looming over all of them, and no-one to trust and talk to. If Charlie couldn’t trust Ash, then that meant Ellen probably couldn’t trust Jo either, and vice versa. Mother and daughter couldn't even trust each other.

_Fuck_.

“But why me?”

Charlie looked at him, her face set with determination. “Because they haven’t gotten to you yet.”

~666~

_ They haven’t gotten to you yet. _

Dean could feel the crescent-shaped wound in his neck sting. He wondered what Charlie would’ve said if she’d seen it.

_ They haven’t gotten to you yet. _

But what if they had? What if Sam kept control over him by keeping him in the dark, or trying to keep him in the dark at least? What if Sam kept control over him through Sue, and through Castiel? He hadn’t stopped Dean from taking the drug, even though he knew Dean was going to take it. And with all those supposed hidden cameras and having Meg as his evil henchwoman, he probably knew that Dean had been fucked by the guy. He hadn’t done anything about that either.

Dean was screwed. So utterly screwed. He was stuck here, just like the others.

But he hadn’t given any information about the others to Sam yet, or to Castiel. And he wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to sell out Charlie, or anyone else for that matter. He just needed to be careful in his tirades against his little brother. And when he was under the influence of Sue.

_Crap._

And of course. Of  _course_  that’s when Sam had to show his fucking face. These days it seemed Dean was obliged to greet his little brother with a punch in the face.

“You son of a bitch!” he roared. “You wanna get me killed!? What the hell is your plan even, Sam!? Throw me into the deep and let me fuck shit up!? I could’ve pulled my gun and shot a guy there, blown this whole operation to bits with it!”

Sam glared as he pressed his fingers against his jaw. “But I trusted you not to, Dean,” he replied. “I still trust you. Please, Dean. I asked you before, and I’m asking you again. Trust me too.”

Dean was about to throw another punch, but Sam caught this one easily. “You need some combat training. And some target practice too, probably. Go find Ellen and ask her to take you to the target range. You can pick up a gun too.”

“Why, for the next little shopping trip you’re sending me on?” Dean spat.

“Yes, and in case of emergency.” There was something in Sam’s eyes, a flash of… regret?

“Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to be able to defend Meg, or myself!?  _What do you fucking want from me, Sam!?_ ”

_ “I’m sending you to the fucking armoury, aren’t I!?” _

Dean shut up. This was the first time he had seen Sam lose his composure. And immediately it felt… wrong. Dangerous. Not for Dean – for Sam. Or perhaps for both of them in general. And that,  _that_ … That was more terrifying than anything right now.

“I’m gonna go and find Ellen,” Dean muttered. Sam nodded, hiding his relief behind a mask. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, waiving his little brother’s words away. He needed to get away from the guy right now. The shooting range would do him good. Maybe it could clear his head a little. God knew he needed a break from all of this madness right now.

~666~

It was about twenty minutes later when he finally stood in front of the door to the shooting range. In his hand was a Taurus model 92, 9mm, 17 round magazine. The grip was set with pearl and the barrel was engraved. Ellen had informed him it was Sam’s gun, but Dean figured the guy could miss the weapon for now. He was doing a lot of desk work anyway.

Someone handed him ear- and eye protection, and with it he walked into the room.

There were two other people doing target practice at the moment, but Dean didn’t pay them any attention. He picked a lane, hung up a poster, and went to stand at his mark, getting ready to aim.

One of the guys left just as he fired his first shot, but he could feel the other guy’s eyes on him. The attention caused him to blush furiously – especially when he missed his target completely. Oh God. He definitely needed target practice. The double-barrelled shotguns he had hunted with as a teenager were  _very_  different from this.

He tried again, and cursed loudly as he missed again. He aggressively pulled down the protection for his eyes and ears to hang around his neck. “It can’t be this fucking difficult,” he muttered.

He hadn’t noticed the other guy walking over, but suddenly there were hands on his hips and a body pressed against his back.

“And it isn’t,” a low, gravelly voice he would always recognise muttered next to him. Hot breath skimmed over the shell of his ear.

He couldn’t move. His heart was racing, he could feel the adrenalin rushing through his veins, trying to spring his fight-or-flight instinct into action, but he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. The touch was like a burn on his skin, and there was no escape.

He wasn’t doped up. He wasn’t powerless. But Castiel was there, right there, and had him completely. As easy to mould as wax. And it turned out Dean didn’t need Sue to be powerless. All he needed was Castiel.

“Just – turn, like this…”

His body was directed by the man pressed up behind him, his arms raised a little higher, his feet gently shoved further apart, his hips turned just a little.

“Now try again.”

He had to obey.

The bang made his ears ring; he realised too late he had left off his ear protection. And his eye protection. His shot had been a perfect hit though.

But all of that suddenly seemed completely irrelevant.

He could feel Castiel hardening against him.

And that voice was back in his ear, that low almost-growl. Hot, soft lips ghosting over his skin.

“Good boy.”

And then there was a tongue.

“I like it when you get violent.”

Dean yanked himself away from Castiel’s grip and ran.


	12. Chapter 12

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- _

Dean was trying so hard to catch his breath, but he couldn’t. The room was spinning and his vision was getting filled with coloured spots and he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he could just feel the heat of Castiel burning on his skin and he needed to scrub it off until he ripped himself open and bled out –

“Dean?”

He looked up. No. No, no, he couldn’t deal with this, not this, not her, not now –

Jo wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, whatever it is, I’m sorry. This place is a mess, it screws with your head. I never thought you’d get dragged into this.” She pressed her scarred face against his hair. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

He wanted to shove her away, wanted to yell at her, shout that everything was wrong, that  _she_  was wrong, that there was no way he’d ever tell her because there was no way he could trust her. But he couldn’t do that. He remembered what Charlie had said. He couldn’t let anyone know he was onto them. If he wanted to survive, he had to pretend to trust them.

Dean nearly choked from the tightening of his chest at that thought. He was going into survival mode. He was finally starting to realise that he was truly stuck here. He couldn’t just mope around anymore, have brooding thoughts about the shit Sam was putting him through, the shit Sam was putting everyone through with his dictatorship. None of that mattered anymore. Dean had almost knowingly walked into the biggest trap of his life, and there was no way out. All he could do now was play the game and try to survive it until the walls of this cage crumbled.

So he indulged in something else he wanted, something he had missed sorely; Jo’s kindness and attention. He hugged her back. “It’s just a lot,” he muttered when he had more or less gotten his breath back. “I’m a gangster now, you know.” Jo chuckled at that. “I guess I wasn’t prepared. It just…”

“It overwhelmed you,” she finished. Dean nodded. “Yeah, that.”

The young woman pressed a kiss against his temple and sighed. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Dean.”

Survival. Dean needed to survive. And if he wanted to survive, he needed intel. But he couldn’t give anything away.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“Who is Castiel?”

He felt her freeze, her arms squeezing him just a bit tighter than comfortable all of a sudden.

“Jo?”

“He’s just a guy. He shows up every now and then.”

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of how to continue.

“But everyone here has a job, a purpose. And I saw him at -” He drew in a shaky breath.  _Fucking hell, Winchester, pull yourself together._

“I saw him at the shooting range. Why would he be there if he’s just a guy? And why is everyone so scared of him? What is up with him? Will you tell me? Please?”

He gave Jo his best version of Sam’s pleading puppy eyes, probably a miserable attempt since on the inside he was still shaking. But somehow a part of her seemed to melt, though Dean had no idea how he’d done it.

She sighed. “Okay. Garth said you knew about the informal parties. You’ve seen it?”

Dean barked out a grim laugh. “Jo, I was tripping on the drugs they hand out there just last week. So yeah.”

Something flashed behind her eyes, and suddenly Dean wondered – had she not known about that, that he’d actually willingly taken the drugs again? How could she not have known? Guess even those who openly knew about trust issues didn’t talk to each other. Wow.

“Right,” she said. “Well, all those people taking the drugs there -” “Test subjects,” Dean interrupted her. She sighed. “Yeah. Well, they can’t go and tell everyone about it. They can’t go home to a family all addicted and changed. People would start questioning it. Investigations would be launched. So we need people who won’t be missed.”

That made sense. “So how does Castiel come into this?”

“He’s the one who finds them, brings them here.”

Which would explain why he was usually here during parties.

“And what makes him so scary?”

This time, Jo visibly shifted. She really didn’t like talking about this. She bit her lip as she avoided his gaze.

“Come on, Jo, tell me.”

The girl finally looked up. “When they have outrun their use, or show signs of telling someone, it’s Castiel to dispose of them again.”

It was as if the whole world fell away and Dean was the only one left, floating in the dark.

Castiel had claimed him as his. In the man’s eyes, he didn’t belong to Sam, or anyone else. Just Castiel. He wasn’t special, wasn’t Sam’s to claim. Which probably made Dean nothing but another test subject in the guy’s eyes.

He could be disposed of just as easily.

And suddenly Sam’s behaviour made a little more sense. His alpha male attitude towards Castiel, which clearly hadn’t worked. Castiel clearly liked to rise up to the challenge, defy Sam’s authority the best he could.

And now that Dean was claimed, Sam couldn’t protect him in that way anymore. But he might still be able to keep Dean alive. So he needed his brother to be more than a simple test subject, needed him to have significance here. Dean might’ve had a lot more time if he hadn’t welcomed Castiel with open arms, more time to adjust, settle, learn. But now he needed to be important here, needed a purpose, something that made him needed, missed. So Sam had thrown him into the deep end of the pool, hoping he’d stay floating.

Sam was protecting Dean.

That was wrong, so wrong. It should be the other way around, it always had been. But it was too late for that now.

Dean’s mind was reeling, all of this was put together in a matter of seconds. He looked up at Jo’s scarred face, then abruptly stood up. “Thanks, Jo. You mind giving me… Mind giving me a moment?”

She nodded and got up too. He let her out, but as soon as he had closed the door, he felt confusion rush through him, pin him in place as his mind shifted into gear again.

Sam was protecting him.

So why couldn’t he just have said that?

Sam was lying.

And Dean wasn’t sure who for. If it was for him, why could Dean not know? He wasn’t allowed to know the threat looming over him, the fact that he needed protection? It didn’t quite make sense. Why would Sam want to hide that from him? Why could the king not speak outright to his subjects?

Maybe. Just maybe…

Maybe Sam was being watched too. Had to watch his words.

If that was the case, then the chance that Sam was protecting himself was just as big. If that was the case, Sam was trying to protect the both of them.

And suddenly everything made sense.

It was all politics, just like Sam had said. The kid had been trying to warn him all along, to keep his head low, to play the game along. Sam had more or less mastered it, which wasn’t a big surprise, he was a genius who had gone to law school, of course he freaking knew his politics.

But the fact remained that Sam was nothing but a puppet, his strings being pulled by others. Dean had no idea who, and he couldn’t go around and ask. From now on, he had to keep his eyes open, had to look for himself, really pay attention. And not trust anyone. He had to keep telling himself that Sam was in charge of him, because that was the way it was supposed to be in this façade. It was starting to become likely that Sam hadn’t wanted him here in the first place, that that had probably been someone else’s doing – for what reason, Dean didn’t know yet.

There was just one thing, just one small thing that still didn’t add up.

If Sam was so adamant on protecting him, then why the hell wasn’t he trying harder to keep Dean alive? Sure, throwing him into the deep end of the pool had been a necessity, but the least he could do was toss him some floaters. So why didn’t he?

He was just going to have to trust Sam. Looking back, all his other actions so far made sense. So maybe this one had a valid reason behind it too.

Unless Dean was completely wrong and Sam wanted him dead of course.

Dean suddenly realised he couldn’t talk about this to anyone. Not even Sam. He couldn’t thank his little brother for looking out for him, or confront him. He was stuck in a play, a role forced on him, and he couldn’t escape it, couldn’t ask for help, nothing.

He suddenly felt really, really lonely.

~666~

_Charlie._

The nightmares had been back. Dean had been crowded by faceless shadows, they had closed in on him until he couldn’t breathe, and in the background had been Sam, standing, watching, doing nothing, and Castiel, who had cocked his head ever so slightly as if observing some kind of interesting experiment.

But when Dean had woken up, sweating, on the verge of shouting his voice hoarse, the first word that had sprung to his mind was the girl’s name.

Charlie. She knew she was being watched, she had to know there were cameras and mics everywhere. Even Jo had known that. And still she’d talked to Dean. So either that place where they had been yesterday wasn’t bugged, or Charlie had found a way to get around the security system. Either way, she was going to be his salvation to staying sane in this madhouse.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and quickly headed for the kitchen, where to his surprise he found Kevin, who was just getting served a stack of pancakes and bacon by Ellen.

“Here you go, honey, God knows you need it,” the woman said, and gave the boy’s arm a squeeze. At the sound of the opening door she looked up though. “Dean! Glad to see you up, sweetie. Are you okay?”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, I’ve been better I guess, but then again I think I’ve been worse too. How’s things? Got any more where that came from?” He gave a little nod to the pancakes, and Ellen nodded. “Sure do. You just sit tight and I’ll have some ready for you in a minute.”

Dean nodded and went to sit at the table. “So, managed to get a break from the lab and Crowley?” he said, only half-joking. Kevin looked up. There were deep, slightly reddened rings under his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “Yeah, I kinda needed it,” he replied. “Though Crowley really isn’t that bad, you know. He’s a ridiculous flirt, but once he sees you’re definitely not in the mood for it, he backs off. He’s quite polite, and well-spoken too, even when he gets angry. To be honest, I could be stuck with a lot worse.”

Dean tried to fight back a slight gag reflex at the mental image of Kevin reciprocating Crowley’s flirting, and raised his eyebrows instead as Ellen put down the pancakes in front of him. “Stuck with? How’s that?”

Kevin shrugged as he stuffed a huge bite of pancakes into his mouth, syrup dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Well, I guess I’m not literally stuck or anything, they’re not locking me in or forcing me, they just don’t really appreciate it if I leave without having made proper progress. And Crowley’s there all the time. I’m pretty sure he gets off on watching me.”

He frowned at his own words for a moment as if realising how wrong that sounded, but then he shrugged again and took another huge bite. Dean just repressed a shiver and took a bite of his own food, not really tasting it anymore.

“Well, whatever keeps you content, kid,” he muttered. “Hey, either of you seen Charlie?”

Kevin shook his head, but Ellen turned around to face him. “She’s working with Ash at the moment. What’s it to you?”

Oh, yeah. He and Charlie are not supposed to be besties after Dean tried to rape her. “I just, eh…”  _So smooth, Winchester._  “I just wanted to talk to her. Apologise for what I did. Eh, if you see her, could you tell her I wanted to talk? Tell her she’ll probably know where to find me.”

This was starting to sound like some kind of Bourne novel. But Ellen just nodded. “Sure thing, sweetie. Just don’t freak her out, okay? She’s part of the family.”

Dean nodded back. “I won’t, I promise. Nice talking to you, Kevin.” That had been more out of politeness, but Kevin really seemed like an okay kid. Dean wondered how he’d gotten dragged into this.

He headed for the library and grabbed a random book from the shelves;  _The Golden Compass_. A children’s book, but Dean wasn’t in the mood to go looking for something else, so he just took that and went back to the willow at the back of the grounds, where he sank down with the book, and waited.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there be more revalations and some stuff about hormones of which I have no clue if it's accurate. Just sayin'. And you guys have no idea how many times I've received the comment that Dean just needs to run like hell. Since this is a work in progress, you've actually managed to influence the story!

“What is it, Dean?”

Dean looked up to see an anxious looking Charlie standing next to him. He put down his book, which he hadn’t really been reading anyway.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Is this place not bugged?”

For the first time since Dean met her he saw her smile. “Nope,” she replied as she sat down next to him, leaning back against the bark of the willow that hid them from view. “I like to come here to get a moment for myself, and no-one ever bothers me. I don’t think people really know about it.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t come here more often, could I? I need to, you know, relieve the crazy every now and then.”

The girl nodded. “It would be my pleasure. I need the conversations as much as you, if I’m honest.”

Dean huffed at this. “I think you need them a hell of a lot more than me, Charlie,” he commented. Then he sighed. “I haven’t been me in a while,” he suddenly realised. “I’ve been acting like a paranoid freak.”

“Well, you have every reason to be paranoid,” Charlie responded with a small smile.

“Yeah, but that’s not it. I’ve just been… different. I’ve been a complete pussy. I used to be able to deal with shit, you know? But lately everything got me more tangled up than a pretzel.”

Charlie shrugged. “You’ve been thrown in the deep.”

“Yeah, but everyone seems to be handling it better than me,” Dean responded. “I mean, were you as bad as this when you found out what kind of level of crazy was going down here?”

“I had a freak-out session that I’m still not quite recovered from,” she answered, her eyes avoiding his. “But things did get a little better. And I don’t think I’ve ever been quite the emotional wreck that you seem to be these days.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, me and Meg work together in the med-bay, you know.” She shrugged again. “Meg likes to gossip. Especially when it involves you, or Castiel. I think she fancies the guy, but he seems pretty terrifying to me.”

“Yeah, I haven’t exactly heard much about him that would indicate sunshine and rainbows. Right up Meg’s street, if you ask me.” Dean wasn’t going to make a single comment on how he seemed to have beaten the nurse to it. Especially since it hadn’t been completely willing.

He groaned as he rubbed his face. This talk about Castiel reminded him again of the itch under his skin. It had been intensifying, and he knew why – he was getting closer and closer to that deadline where he would start craving Sue again.

Speaking of which…

“Hey, you think Sue has side-effects?”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? That stuff is still way back in its testing phase. There’s so much wrong with it, I don’t even know where to start. It messes with your brain, Dean. Kevin is doing all he can to make it less damaging, but I don’t know if he’s getting anywhere.”

Dean could feel the blood drain from his face. “Great,” he muttered. “Just phenomenal.”

The girl gave him a sideways glance. “You’re not telling me that you’re addicted, are you, Dean? Please tell me you’re not hooked.”

“Everybody gets hooked,” he replied, still not meeting her gaze.

“Yeah, except some people are more susceptive than others.”

Dean bit his lip, trying his very best to fight off the panic that was clawing its way up inside him. He couldn’t deal with this. Not on top of all of the rest of his shit. Sam hadn’t lifted a finger to protect him from a potentially lethal drug, which made his theory of the guy just wanting him dead all the more likely. He just wanted it to look like an accident, the bastard.

“Dean, I think you’re about to hyperventilate…”

“Well what am I supposed to do, Charlie!?  _What am I supposed to do!?_ ”

She pulled him in for a hug, holding him as tightly as possible as he shook in her arms. “I think you should run,” she whispered. “Just run. Find a rehab clinic, get clean, don’t look back. Me, Ellen, Jo, we’re happy to have you here, really, but this isn’t worth it. This will kill you, while we are still trucking on.”

She pulled back and put her hands on either side of his face. “We’ll be okay. You just run.”

He looked into her grey eyes, feeling the tears well up in his own. This was tearing him apart. Charlie was brave though, strong. Stronger than him. So he let his own eyes slip closed, the tears escaping and rolling down as he nodded. He was going to run.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he whispered as he pressed a shaky kiss against her forehead. She gave him a sad smile. “Don’t mention it.”

He got up, feeling resolute for the first time in weeks. He was going to do this the smart way, wasn’t going to get up and run just like that.

First, he needed to find Sam.

~666~

“Hey Sammy.”

“Dean?” The younger Winchester looked up from his stack of papers, clearly surprised to see his brother.

“I was wondering when you’re going to send me out again.” He stepped into the office, his tone of voice as carefree as he could muster, though on the inside he was sweating bullets. Sam frowned.

“Not until next week, I think. Why?”

Now this was important. He couldn’t let Sam know, couldn’t let him suspect anything. He just couldn’t be sure that Sam was to be trusted, even if it was his little brother, little Sammy, the boy he’d taken care of and protected his entire life. His guts churned at the thought of how messed up everything was now, but he kept his game face on.

“Just wanted to know how long it was before I have to hit the road again. I’d like to feel a bit more prepared for the next time, you know? It’d be nice if I didn’t get myself accidentally killed.”

Something flashed across Sam’s face, but it was gone too quickly for Dean to see what it was.  _As per fucking usual these days._  Dean was getting a bit tired of all this bullshit. So he decided to push Sam’s buttons a little, see if he could draw a clearer reaction.

“Yeah, I mean, last time was actually pretty interesting,” he continued. “It’s all not so bad really, I’m kinda eager to see what else is gonna happen, you know. You were right, it’s a little like GTA. It’s pretty cool.”

This time he saw it; a flash of anger, mixed with something else, something Dean didn’t quite recognise. It was like trying to catch tiny fish with his bare hands, they kept slipping through his fingers and it was fucking  _maddening_.

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” Sam responded, but he sounded like he was trying to hold back a big Sam-rant. He even had a twitching muscle in his jaw. Dean flashed a smile.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go back to the shooting range, turns out my aim is actually pretty crap. Let’s hope we can get that a little better for next week, yeah?” He winked and walked out of the office, his heart racing.

He didn’t want to go back there, was dreading it with every fibre in his body. But everything was being monitored, so he had to, or it would look suspicious.

A week. That was all he had to manage. He would get one more shot of Sue, he would improve his aiming, just in case, and the next time Sam would send him out again, he would leave Meg behind and drive as far away as possible. All the way to South America if he had to, or maybe Canada was a better option. It sounded safer to him than Brazil, though he’d have to give up the bikinis and suntans. It was worth it though. He’d live.

He wanted to plan this out, look at maps, check out where to go, where he could lay low easily until they would’ve forgotten him. Which would probably take about a hundred years. But he knew he couldn’t do that, he was being watched and no-one could suspect that he was planning on escaping.

Dean wasn’t sure if he felt better now that he knew more. It meant he had more to hide, which meant more stress. God, how did anyone ever manage to survive this long in this place without going mad? He was pretty sure his mind was close to fried already.

He walked down to the shooting range, nervous about encountering a certain person. Well, nervous was an understatement; adrenaline made his heart race until it felt like it was going to explode.

The panic caused him to rush blindly along the corridors, which is how he collided in full force with a body he didn’t even see the face off until he was lying sprawled out on the floor.

“Hello, Squirrel,” it sounded in a drawled out British accent, and Dean let out a tiny sigh of relief that at least it wasn’t Castiel, just Crowley. He picked himself up off the floor and pulled his flannel shirt a bit straighter, trying to regain some of his dignity.

“Squirrel?” he asked, eyebrows raised questioningly. Crowley just waived his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t ask, you won’t receive any answer that makes sense anyway.”  _Fair enough._  He wanted to walk away again, but the shorter man called after him.

“Kevin hasn’t received any blood samples of you lately.”

Dean was frozen on the spot. When he eventually managed to turn himself around and face Crowley again, he saw a playful spark in the guy’s eyes. “Was he supposed to?”

“Well, you took Sue, so technically you  _are_  a test subject,” Crowley answered, hands in his pockets, a smug little smile on his face. “And it’s only beneficial for you. We can monitor your health that way.”

And suddenly, things once again clicked in Dean’s mind.

Sue was damaging. It messed with people’s brains. And Dean had been off and paranoid and an emotional wreck pretty much ever since he got here.

Usually he was quite stress-resilient. Which meant it wasn’t the stress of it all that was fucking him up.

It was Sue.

“I think I’m gonna go get that check-up,” he whispered. Crowley raised his eyebrow a little in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, you do that.”

~666~

Meg and Kevin were sitting at the lab table, Dean’s freshly-drawn blood between them, along with the printed results, Dean across from them.

“Yeah, your hormones are a mess, these results all over the place,” Meg stated almost casually. “I’d like to run some more tests to see if it’s your receptors where the real problem lies, or if it’s your hypothalamus or maybe your thyroid gland, or maybe your adrenal glands or even your testes –”

Dean raised his hand to stop her. “If you think I’m gonna let you stick a needle in my balls, you’re gonna be in for a real treat,” he growled. Kevin sighed.

“Look, Dean, we need to know if there’s damage, and if so, what and where. We don’t know if this is all temporary or not. If this goes the wrong way, your nerves will end up fried, you could get heart conditions, kidney problems, liver messed up, erectile dysfunction, brain damage…”

Panic clawed itself to the surface again. “Erectile dysfunction!?” he nearly squeaked. Meg rolled her eyes. “Could’ve known that was gonna be the most off-putting thing on our list.” Dean ignored her.

“Why the hell are you guys even handing this stuff out!?”

“We need test subjects,” Kevin shrugged. There was guilt in his eyes, Dean could see it, but the kid was probably as stuck as he was and had most likely decided somewhere along the road to just roll with it. “Without test subjects this drug will stay as bad as it is right now, and I prefer to hurt people that won’t be missed than sell this stuff the way it is now to the mass.”

“How can you even sleep at night?”

The words had left his mouth before he realised it. And it had clearly hit a nerve. Kevin got up, his expression furious, and he stood there for a moment in silence before finally storming out.

“You really pissed off our little Stormtrooper there,” Meg remarked dryly. Dean felt like punching her. Except this time he wasn’t sure if that was  _him_  him or the fucked up hormones.

“What happens if I stop taking Sue?”

“Well, hopefully, your body will balance itself out over time,” the nurse answered. “I can’t know for sure though, I’d need to check if something is damaged, and if so, what. Some bits and pieces of your body will heal on their own, others might need some stimulation to get repaired again, and some won’t ever heal. So yeah, I’d have to do more tests to be sure.”

Dean groaned. He was so done with this.  _One more week_ , he told himself.  _One more week and I’m out._

“You’ll go through withdrawal again though.”

“ _Fuck_.” He’d just have to find a rehab clinic as soon as he got out. Though they might find him there easily. A secluded forest cabin then, get an IV, lock himself in.

“You did this to yourself though, as I probably don’t need to remind you.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Dean snapped. “So my hormones are a mess, how’s that gonna show for me?”

“Well,” she said again, “you’re more touchy. You get triggered more easily. I’m sure you’ve noticed?”

Dean flipped her off.

“Charming. Anyway, you might also have a lot more trouble sleeping. Vivid lucid dreaming, random flares of adrenaline, panic attacks, and you can almost count on it that either incredibly turned on or incredibly turned off at the most random moments.”

Dean snorted, though he didn’t find anything in this situation even remotely funny. “Figures.”

“Didn’t experience any of that yet?”

“You’re a disgusting pervert.”

Meg just shrugged. “Hey, nothing wrong with popping a boner. I definitely don’t mind the view, nor do I mind the mental image of you and Clarence having hot, hot sex.”

Dean frowned. “Who the hell is Clarence?”

“Your little loverboy, Castiel.”

Dean froze. “Little loverboy?  _Are you actually kidding me!?_  And what the fuck is up with the nicknames here? Jesus!” Okay, so maybe he was throwing a bit of an embarrassing fit, but it was more to cover up for the fact that he was losing it again, palms sweating, heart racing. Because he definitely  _didn’t_  like the mental image of him and Castiel.

So he got up and walked out the door, being called after by Meg with a last “What about your extra tests?” He flipped her off again. “Shove ‘em up your ass!” And with that he was gone.

He ran through the hallways, trying his best to keep his breathing at least a little within control. That hadn’t been funny, hadn’t been funny at all. One week. Just one week. He wouldn’t take Sue, couldn’t destroy himself like that, just had to bear the torture of withdrawal. Had to get out. Had to find space, get air, get out, leave, run, run,  _run_ , around the corner, down the hall, another corner –

“Hello, Dean.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, MY LAPTOP BROKE THE HORROR AAAAH *takes deep breaths* I'm good, I'm good, it's been fixed. AND OMG THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT, I just had to say it. *would tear up if I wasn't known amongst friends as Female Satan* Okay, enough ridiculous rambling. Here's the continuance of that little cliffhanger. Enjoy :)

“No…”

Castiel tilted his head a little and squinted, a small, cold smile appearing on his face. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said as he started closing in while Dean was backing up. “I was so bored.”

Dean felt the wall behind him, and his heart stopped. There was nowhere to run for him. He was trapped.

Heart racing, palms sweating, pulse beating deafeningly loud in his ear, he looked into Castiel’s eyes. For the first time he saw the man, really saw him, without any drug-induced hallucinations.

His eyes truly were an unsettlingly clear shade of blue, but they weren’t glowing with electricity. Of course not.

But he was definitely stunning. That was something that Dean  _hadn’t_  hallucinated; dark, mussed up hair, stubble defining his jawline and the sinews in his neck, full lips, slightly droopy eyes. Not that that made him any less intimidating. The look he gave Dean was dark, cold, hungry. Intense. Everything about the man radiated that he  _always_  got what he wanted. It made Dean want to crawl out of his skin.

“How have you been, Dean?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“You seem uneasy,” Castiel said. Dean couldn’t tell if the man was being serious or if he was simply toying with him. Truthfully, he didn’t really want to know either way.

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” he quipped after a loaded silence, trying his very best to hide the fact that his heart was racing. “How ‘bout you?”

This time, Castiel’s eyes twinkled. Slowly he stepped even closer, until there was barely a hair’s breadth between them, their faces less than an inch apart.

“I’ve missed you, pet,” Castiel nearly purred.

And suddenly he had Dean pinned against the wall, arm against his throat, free hand on Dean’s belt buckle, mouth pressed against his throat, hot breath skimming the skin.

“The way you look underneath all those clothes. The way you smell. All the pretty sounds you make for me…”

Dean felt like he wanted to sink through the floor, evaporate into thin air, whatever it would take to escape this public assault, this humiliation where anyone could see him. He wanted to get as far away from Castiel as possible, right now.

“What’s the matter, Dean?” the man’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Don’t you remember our last time? Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Dean tried to pull away desperately, but Castiel wouldn’t budge. It was like the man’s body was made of concrete, and struggling was as effective as pushing against a wall. And Dean was now really starting to panic.

“Please,” he gasped as he tried pushing Castiel away again. But Castiel shook his head and pressed his body against Dean’s. “Please what, Dean? Please stop? I’m sorry, but that is not going to happen.”

Castiel shifted, perhaps to press his leg between Dean’s knees, but Dean saw an opportunity and brought his own knee up to kick Castiel right in the groin. The man let go immediately with a harsh grunt of pain, and Dean sprinted down the hallway.

Right before he went around the corner, a body collided with his from behind in full force, tackling him to the ground and straddling him. And then Castiel’s voice was in his ear again, low, rough, dangerously soft.  _Furious._

“Don’t  _ever_  think you can run from me, Dean,” he growled, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “I’m always going to be right behind you, right around the corner, just out of sight. No matter how far you travel, how much distance you think you’ve put between yourself and me, I will be right there.  _You cannot escape me._ ”

He licked a stripe up Dean’s neck, then sunk his teeth into the old wound, remarking his pet. After that he put his hand on the back of the younger man’s head and smashed his face against the floor. Then, finally, he got up and walked away, leaving Dean on the floor, desperately gasping for breath, his cheekbone, eyebrow and shoulder throbbing with pain, shaking from his adrenaline rush and terror, sobbing for anything and nothing.

It wasn’t until about ten minutes later that he finally got up, feeling feverish and cold and mentally drained. He felt weak. He felt numb. And in his head, the same words kept repeating themselves: he could never escape. Castiel would always find him. He could never escape.

He didn’t realise where his feet had brought him until he was already there, blinking confused as he found himself at what seemed a random office. When he looked through the door, Michael was sitting behind the desk, wearing a grey suit that made him look stunningly handsome and almost shockingly different from when Dean had seen him at the party.

Why had he come here? Why Michael’s office?

But the feverish chill in his blood was gnawing on his nerves, pulling him into the office until he stood right before the desk. Only then did Michael look up, not seeming surprised in the slightest.

“Dean. What can I help you with?”

“I need it.”

The words had left his mouth before he’d even realised it. But he got it now; he needed Sue. Needed to drown out the numbness, the fear, the feeling of being so weak. He wanted to see the world thrum with ancient power and blue electricity again, no matter how terrifying it was. Needed it. Needed to feel that ancient power seep into his veins again.

Michael simply raised his eyebrows. “Dean, I’m sorry. I’m guessing it’s Sue you want. And I don’t carry that outside of the informal parties.”

“Then I’ll go to Kevin.”

“Kevin won’t give it to you either,” the lawyer said as he stood up to keep Dean from rushing out his office again. “The only way you can get more is during the next party.”

Dean swallowed. He couldn’t wait that long. He felt horrible already, and it was only going to get worse. “When is that?”

“Tomorrow. You think you can wait until then?”

He bit his lip.  _Fuck._  It was all he could do. One day. He could do one day.

“Okay.”

“Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a busy man.” And with that, Dean was dismissed.

He left the office feeling hollow and weighed down, as if gravity had intensified. He felt like shit. Praying to God or whoever was listening that he wouldn’t bump into Castiel or Sam or Meg or anyone else again, he walked through the corridors of the mansion, back to his own room, where he finally shrugged out of his clothes, despite the fact that it was still early, then crawled under the covers, and fell asleep.

~666~

Dean woke up once when Jo brought him a tray with bread and soup, which he ate, despite not being hungry, then crawled back into bed. He just felt tired and heavy and cold, his face and neck hurting like hell, but he didn’t pay attention to it.

Castiel had said he couldn’t escape. Had told Dean he’d find him anywhere.

That didn’t mean Dean wasn’t going to leave anymore. He was still determined on escaping. But it seemed to become more and more difficult as the moment drew closer. He felt too tired to do the effort. And on top of that, he knew he had to leave Sue behind, and he wasn’t going to be able to get any more of it once he was gone. That was a thought he was really struggling with.

He lost track of time as he lay there in the dark of his room, but somewhere along the day (night?) the door opened again, and he tensed up, trying his best to hide under the covers and pretend he was asleep as footsteps approached his bed.

“Dean?”

It was nothing more than a soft whisper, but he immediately recognised it.

_Sam._

He peeked out over the blankets to see his younger brother stand next to the bed. “I just wanted to check up on you,” the guy whispered. “I heard you never made it to the shooting range, so I was worried.”

Dean nodded numbly. “Think I’m coming down with something,” he muttered.

Maybe Sam thought the darkness hid his expression, or maybe he just lost grip of his resolve for a second, let his mask slip, but Dean saw the sadness in his little brother’s eyes as he reached out to let his fingers run through Dean’s short hair like he had always done when he was four, finding comfort in it, but pulled back again before he actually touched him.

“Well, take care of yourself, yeah?” he muttered. For a second it looked like he was going so say something else, but then his mask slid in place again and he turned around. “Get some rest.”

And with that he walked out again, leaving Dean frozen in place under the covers.

_Sam._

Sam was never supposed to take care of Dean, even when he had been ill he would be out of bed and walking around the room to provide in everything for his little brother. He had always been there for Sammy, had always looked after him. How had this gone so badly? How had that happened, leading them to as broken as they were now?

And here Dean was, ready to just walk out and leave his little brother to his fate. If his dad were still alive, he’d have killed Dean for even thinking it. He’d have personally dragged Dean to Hell for all the things he’d done and had let happen since Sam walked out and left for college, for how incredibly fucking selfish he'd been.

Crap.

Leaving had now become about a thousand times harder.

~666~

By the time the next informal party came around, Dean was shaking again.

He could barely control his limbs with the intensity of it. Sweat was dripping down his back, and spots were dancing over his retina. And all the time his body was screaming, over and over again, until everything blurred –

_ SUE SUE SUE SUESUESUESUESUSEEUSUSUES _

Dean wanted to scream as well, but all he could manage was a hoarse wheezing sound. He crawled out of bed, the room swimming in front of him. Damn, when withdrawal symptoms for Sue finally showed, they really kicked you in the jewels.

He didn’t know how he made it downstairs, but when he got there, the noise of the party was pressing against his eardrums, making his head feel like it was about to explode. Ellen looked like she had seen a ghost and was about to help him back to bed, but he managed to escape her and sneak into the Pit.

He looked around, trying to find Michael in the crowd, but instead finding himself surrounded by faceless strangers. Everything was spinning. He tried to grab onto something, make sure he’d stay steady on his feet, but his depth perception seemed off and he found himself gripping thin air. He started turning around, spinning in circles and circles until he was going to fall over or pass out –

“I knew you would come.”

Castiel’s eyes seemed to almost glow under the strange UV lights and strobes. Dean had never really realised how tall the guy actually was; just an inch or two shorter than him. Though right now he seemed to tower over Dean.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Dean gasped, trying to back up, but continuously colliding with bodies. Castiel tilted his head a little.

“There is no reason to base that assumption on, Dean,” he said. His expression then changed to something dark. An expression Dean started to recognise as his playful face. This was what he looked like when he was about to play with Dean, like a cat batting about a ball of string.

“You came here for Sue,” he stated. Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, his palms sweaty. He could feel his heartrate accelerate at the mention of the drug. His eyes flicked down, subconsciously checking Castiel’s hands or pockets, as if he would be able to see the little vial he desperately craved right now right through the fabric of the man’s pants. The corners of Castiel’s mouth twitched at that. Then, practically reading Dean’s mind, he opened his hand, showing the little glass thing filled with the dark red, gold shimmering liquid.

Dean was doing everything he could to contain himself, to keep himself from ripping the vial from Castiel’s hand and pour it down his throat. He could feel his fingers twitching though, and he knew the man noticed it.

“Ah-ah-ah, Dean,” he practically sing-songed. “You’re not getting this. Not like that, anyway.”

Then he grinned, popped open the vial, and poured it into his own mouth.

With a growl, Dean grabbed the back of Castiel’s neck and pulled him in, crashing their mouths together, thrusting his tongue between the older man’s lips and practically drinking Sue from Castiel’s mouth. He moaned as he felt the hot, thick, slightly sweet liquid slide down his oesophagus.

For an uncertain amount of time, the strange, gloopy glow from the drug spreading out from his core into his limbs was all there was, until it filled him completely, his fingers and toes tingling, his brain feeling like it had been lit up like a Christmas tree. For seconds that seemed infinite, he floated in his body, wasn’t even aware of the fact that he’d taken a few steps back from Castiel, who was now watching him with shimmering eyes.

But then he became aware of his surroundings again. He felt oddly grounded. Felt taller. The world around him was thrumming, that ancient power back, swirling around him. Every now and then thin streaks of electric blue lightning skittered across the surface of the walls, across people’s faces, their swaying bodies.

But somehow it was… different. Something wasn’t quite right. Something was missing.

Dean felt hollow, satisfied but unsatisfied at the same time, like there was a hole inside him and it was itching just slightly. He tried to remember, tried to think back to last time, to remember what was missing, what he needed right now. But the longer he was standing there, letting Sue seep into his system, the more everything changed. It was as if the world was becoming gloopy, air thick as syrup, his body feeling like it was about to start melting like a wax figure, his skin sliding down from his sinews like old honey. It seeped into his mind, made everything sluggish and terrifying. Even the music slowed down, sounding low and creepy.

He was losing his grip of reality fast. He needed to get away from this, needed what he’d felt last time, to hover, fly, soar.

And he remembered what had made him feel like that last time.

He looked up to find Castiel still standing there, watching him calmly. Patiently.

Dean felt like crying, but knew he wouldn’t. His body was too slow, too trapped in this hell. He couldn’t move, could only feel each breath come out slower than the last one, despite his chest aching because his heartrate was way too elevated and his lungs were screaming for him to hyperventilate right now.

And Dean was terrified.

He felt like he’d fallen into a tar pit, and he was drowning. And right now, only one person could pull him out.

“Cas, please…” he finally managed to bring out. The music had drowned out the sound of his words, but Castiel had seen the movement of his lips, and gave a benign smile before walking over and taking Dean’s hand.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said, his expression calm but triumphant at the same time. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He led them out the Pit and back upstairs to Dean’s bedroom, where he locked the door behind them. A grin spread on his face.

“I’ll take real good care of you.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I hate black-and-white good guys/bad guys, here's a little insight into Castiel's thoughts and motives. Hope you like it :) Also, there be smut in this chapter! And remember, warnings for drug addiction/abuse and messed up sexual relationships are very, very strong in this fic.

Castiel was far slower in taking Dean’s clothes of this time, to the point where Dean wanted to scream for everything to move on, for him to escape this sluggish world that was suffocating him. He tried pushing against the older man, moving his body so that he would get out of his clothes quicker, but Castiel was relentless in taking his time, as if he knew exactly how Dean felt.

“Be patient, Dean,” he said, his voice steady but his pupils already blown with lust. “I can’t just yank you out of where you are now. I could do damage. And the slower we go, the better it’ll be.”

He locked gazes with the man before him, stilling his movements while Dean’s shirt was halfway up his arms. It was frustrating and awkward, and Dean felt so small and insignificant under that electric blue gaze. “Cas…” he breathed, a soft plea to make the other get a move on.

Castiel chuckled softly and pulled the shirt off completely, then placed his long, experienced fingers on Dean’s belt, unbuckling it just a little too slowly. His touch only grazed Dean’s stomach, but it sent sparks through the younger man’s skin anyway and he sucked in a breath.

So far it wasn’t like last time, though. The touches were intense, but they weren’t driving him mad with frantic need, didn’t make him soar, and that scared him. He was still stuck in the sludge of the air around him. A needy whine left his lips, and he bucked his hips to spur Castiel on again. Not that it helped. It was maddening and terrifying and Dean wanted to scream.

“Cas, please, need…”

The man almost snarled at that. “Don’t you dare to tell me what to do, Dean Winchester.  _I_  move this the way I want it to. I know better than you. I  _am_  better than you. So shut –” he pushed Dean onto the bed with deliberate force, never letting go of him though – “your mouth.”

He climbed on after, straddling Dean’s still jean-clad thighs and leaning in to nip, bite, mark the younger man’s skin and send lightning bolts through him with each sharp sting of it.

“This is not enough for you, is it?” he spat between each nip as he moved down to spread them evenly over Dean’s body, pulling down the guy’s pants with it. “But it’s what you need. I know. I know what I’m doing.”

He looked up at Dean. Dean didn’t notice, though. His eyes were wide and his gaze shooting in all directions, trying to keep track of the miniature explosions on his retina or in the room, he didn’t even know. His breath was quick and shallow as he was clearly on the edge of panic.

Castiel let out a small sigh. He finished the nips, spreading them out across Dean’s body in a way that made the guy feel like he was on fire from tip to toe. It was as if the electric lightning was starting to burn away the tar that was clinging to Dean’s skin, pulling him out of the sludge slowly. And Castiel knew.

Dean was still wide-eyed and close to hyperventilating though, and that just wouldn’t do. So Castiel flipped the younger man over to lie on his stomach and started to go through the same process as he did on the front, but this time he reached up with one hand to carefully massage the nape of Dean’s neck, his nails scraping the scalp lightly every now and then, sending shivers through Dean’s body and pulling gasps and the occasional moan from him.

He could see Dean’s muscles relax, and moved to the guy’s ass. With care he spread Dean’s cheeks and licked the puckered hole, the reaction truly beautiful as Dean buried his face into the pillows and his shoulders arched up a little, a moan escaping his lips.

“Cas,” the younger man tried again, his voice wrecked, “ _please_ …”

This time, Castiel obliged. Dean was ready.

He pushed his tongue in, and Dean groaned loudly. Castiel smirked as he worked the younger man open, revelling in his squirms and moans, his panting and begging.

Contrary to what people might think, he didn’t want to destroy Dean, he wanted to keep him. He considered him an investment, and investments needed to be taken care of, didn’t they?

And Castiel wasn’t a bad man.

Well, not  _that_  bad.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to rip someone apart just for fun. He didn’t find pleasure or satisfaction in torture, or murder. Those were mere things he did for the greater good, because he had to do them. Believe it or not, he was just following orders. He didn’t like it, hated authority, hated being authority too. But following orders was neat. Simple. There was no need to think about morality, just the simplicity of receiving an order and carrying it out.

But Dean…

Dean made things different. Sure, Castiel had loved playing with his previous toys, enjoyed the surge of power as he topped them in the bedroom, but that had all just been sex.

Dean was like a drug. He was perhaps as addictive as Sue, if Castiel had known the effects of the Red Woman. With Dean, he always wanted to come back for more. Needed more. He had felt the absence of Dean itch under his skin, and having him now was like a cool relief that would burn with intensity when he pushed into that willing body that shook and begged under him. God, it was good. It was heaven.

He let his fingertips trail over Dean’s ribs, then down until he held the man’s cheeks again, spreading them to give Castiel a good view. He licked his lips. This. This was what he wanted. What  _he_  needed.

He quickly grabbed some lube from the nightstand and slicked up his aching hard cock, using the remainder of the substance dripping from his fingers to prep Dean a little more, causing the man to let out a soft mewl. “Almost, pet, almost,” he soothed. He couldn’t help suppress a smirk. Nothing was as good as the feeling he got when his favourite toy wanted him as much as he wanted them.

Finally,  _finally_ , Castiel lined up the head of his cock with Dean’s entrance and pushed in, letting out a grunt at the tight heat squeezing down on him, pushing back, then yielding.

When he was completely bottomed out, he wrapped one arm around Dean’s middle, trying to maximise the amount of physical contact as he draped himself over the younger man’s body while leaning on his other arm to keep balance. With that position, he started rolling his hips.  _Finally_. God, that felt amazing. He’d missed this, he really had.

Underneath him, Dean was moaning and crying out with each snap of his hips, both of them sweating and grunting and moving, though where Castiel was feeling great but very aware of everything, Dean seemed well on his way to losing his mind. Castiel could practically  _feel_  the younger man’s eyes roll back in his head as his body shook from the overstimulation. That wasn’t good. He needed to anchor him.

He pressed his mouth to the nape of Dean’s neck and pressed his teeth into the wound again, softly. Dean let out a scream and he scrambled for the pillows as he suddenly came hard, clamping down on Castiel before the older man was even close to finished.

Castiel growled and thrust into Dean a few more times, riding him through it until he went still, but he knew he couldn’t continue; it would fry the man’s brain. So instead, he pulled out, feeling slightly disappointed, but with a few harsh strokes he came too with a grunt, painting Dean’s back with ribbons of his come.

He took a step back, still panting and feeling a little dazed from his orgasm, to look at his work. Dean was lying completely limp, covered in both Castiel’s and his own jizz. Castiel smiled. It really was a piece of art.

He grabbed his clothes, then walked over to Dean once more and leaned in to purr in his ear: “Get that wound checked out, pet.” It was an order, and he knew Dean would follow it when he came to. And with that he left the room, not even glancing back once.

~666~

He’d begged for it.

Not just wanted it, actually begged for Castiel to fuck him again. He’d even initiated it.

Dean wanted to scrub his skin off, his muscles, until just his bones were left, and he wanted to then sand those down to dust as well. He wanted nothing to be left.

Dean wasn’t just ashamed, he was scared as well. He was scared of how much he wanted both Sue and Castiel, how he suddenly couldn’t even think of continuing his life without either.

But he knew he had to, knew he had to respect Charlie’s wishes, had to take care of himself and get out, even though he didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve to. What made him more special than her, than Jo, or Ellen, or Sam? He wanted to help them, get them out as well, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to go to the police;  _if_  Sam was being controlled, then whoever was controlling him would kill everyone for that. And if Sam wasn’t being controlled, well, Dean loved his little brother, even despite that huge betrayal. He didn’t want him to end up in prison. Didn’t want any of them to go to jail.

So he used his next few days to practice hand-to-hand combat and to improve his aim at the shooting range. He let Meg patch him up and give him a tetanus shot. He did everything he could do to prepare for running without making it look suspicious.

But if he was honest, he didn’t know why he even bothered. He didn’t want to run. He didn’t care about himself, didn’t give a damn about surviving. He was ruined. He wanted to help his friends, his  _family_. But he couldn’t do a thing for them. And that was killing him.

He did his best though. For Charlie.

He didn’t go back to her little hideout, apart from one more time, afraid it would be suspicious if he kept going there regularly. He also didn’t run into Castiel anymore, to his relief. He barely saw anyone but Ellen and Jo, Ellen during meals and Jo in combat training. She had always been skilled with a knife, and he was very grateful for a familiar face to train him, even if that face was scarred; something else he blamed himself for. He should’ve been there. Shouldn’t have walked out on them, shouldn’t have abandoned them the minute Sam had walked out to college.

He’d messed everything up. He’d let Sam walk out after that fight with dad. It was his fault. He should’ve been there. He should’ve been there.

When the day finally arrived that Dean was going to get sent out again, his heart was racing, his palms sweating. This was it. This was his chance to escape. And it was high time too. After a few more tests with Meg and Kevin he’d been told that his receptors were receiving slight damage from Sue as well, and they weren’t sure if that was going to ever heal – probably not.

It was a little like meth, apparently. Meth gave you a rush of dopamine, the orgasm hormone. Or at least, Dean thought it was something like that. The first hit would flood your senses and fry your receptors. You’d crave that rush again, but because of the damage done to your receptors, you’d never feel that same intense high again. You’d use more and more to try and chase that high, but you’d never get it again. And they were ruined for naturally produced dopamine too. You’d never feel truly happy again, not really.

Sue was less damaging than that, it messed more with your hormone levels than with your receptors directly, but that receptor bit was still comparable to meth. Which meant Dean had to get out before he could damage his body so much he would go beyond a point of no return.

He was sent out with Meg again, something he was grateful for. Part of him felt like she would be easier to give the slip, since she might trust him a little more than a random guy would. She was also just a nurse, not for example Jo the knife-wielding Superhunter. This might just work.

He stayed for the transaction, which went smoothly. Meg gave the money, Clark gave the supplies. No muss, no fuss. So far everything was going perfectly.

By the time they got back to the motel room, Dean’s hands were shaking. He let his gaze swoop the room, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Everything seemed okay. All he had to do was wait for Meg to get into the shower. He wasn’t just going to bail, because she would never let him go on his own, she wasn’t that stupid, but he had a plan.

As the water in the bathroom started running, he collected the few stray items from his duffel bag. He’d brought enough to survive for approximately four days because he knew he was being monitored and he couldn’t have grabbed more without looking suspicious, so there wasn’t much to pack. It was what he grabbed  _from_  his bag though what counted right now.

During his last visit to Kevin’s lab he’d spotted a bottle of chloroform. Deciding not to be sneaky about it, since that would’ve been suspicious, he had simply asked about it. Apparently it wasn’t used in Sue, but its qualities and effects were studied since it did something to potassium channels in nerve cells, which was interesting for developing Sue. Dean had then proceeded to supposedly accidentally knock over the bottle, causing it to shatter on the floor. Holding his breath, he’d helped Kevin clean up the mess. But he’d managed to salvage the lower third of the bottle, which, conveniently and miraculously, had remained whole, still containing a bit of liquid. He had managed to smuggle it away and put it in a small bag at Charlie’s hideout, where no camera could spot him.

And right now he was soaking a cloth in the liquid, trying to hold his breath as much as possible to not inhale any of the sweet-smelling fumes. He still had to drive.

With a sting in his heart he realised he couldn’t take Baby; she would be tracked too easily. He’d have to steal a car, and then again later to throw anyone off his trail. It was a good thing he hadn’t been a very decent teenager, giving him the advantage of knowing how to hijack cars.

The sound of the shower stopped, and Dean’s head snapped up to the bathroom door. Now or never. He could do this. He would do this. For Charlie. He figured he really owed her.

He walked over to the door and waited just behind it.

When it opened, he grabbed Meg and pressed the cloth against her mouth and nose while wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her tightly as she struggled, until finally she went limp.

He carried her to the bed, then grabbed his bag. The last thing he did was hang a  _Do not disturb_  card on the outside of the door before finally turning around and walking out of the building, leaving everything behind.

He’d never felt this guilty in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, so Cas is taking orders too... From whom? He wouldn't take orders from Sam, so what is going on? And what do you think will happen next? What will Dean do? Or, if you have zero faith in him, how long do you think he'd last before crawling back? (Not saying that'll happen necessarily, but you know.) Also, influences keep inspiring me for this fic to take slightly different turns. There was this lovely idea from one of my readers a few chapters back that I really liked, and then I watched Peaky Blinders again (which really is an AMAZING show and has helped me so much in trying to figure out the whole power plays of this gangster-like world), and I feel like this fic is getting longer every time! Not that that's bad, but just so you know, we're not close to the end yet ;) Anyway, yes, review, request oneshots or fics, send me prompts, I love hearing from you! And have a nice day :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* Another chapter? Already? Oh how I spoil you ;) This sadly doesn't necessarily mean that I'll be uploading new chapters as frequently as I used to again, I can't guarantee anything. But hey, I am a generous person, and this chapter just came rolling out, so here it is :) (And it includes a little more insight on Castiel, since I got a lot of love for that!) So thank you for your reviews and kindness, and enjoy :)
> 
> Oh, sidenote: I now also have a tumblr account (thanks to a very kind fan who thought it was a good idea, and I kind of have to agree :) ) you'll find me on ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com if you want to talk or see me announce the next chapter or fic coming up or if you want to submit stuff or send me prompts, or whatever really :) Okay, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy the read, and have a nice day :)

Dean had been driving for seven hours straight now, having only been forced to stop once for gas. He thought this was a good moment to switch cars, and quickly pulled over at a shitty-looking motel. After a quick scope of the parking lot he found out that there were actually not even cameras here, which was amazing. It was one fortune after the other. Everything was running incredibly smooth, smoother than he’d ever hoped it would go.

Not that he thought he didn’t deserve this streak of luck, but Dean was convinced this was a sure sign of things to go sour any moment now. Somehow the biggest problem he’d encountered so far was that the car radio had been broken, meaning he couldn’t listen to music and having to rely on his watch to know the time. He could fix that of course, but he’d have to stop, and it just wasn’t worth it, especially with a temporary car, no matter how punishing his thoughts became in the silence that was filled with only the hum of the engine.

He was itching to check his phone, see if Sam had called him maybe, begging him to come back or perhaps even telling him to stay away, telling him to take care of himself and never come back, for his own good. Or maybe a similar call from Ellen or Jo. But he knew he couldn’t. Phones could be traced. So he’d taken out his old SIM-card, intending on buying a new one sometime in the near future. If Sam had called him, he wouldn’t know.

For now though, he’d get some food, steal it if he had to, steal another car, then drive a bit more before finding a place to crash. Maybe he’d even sleep in the car, even though the weather was chilly and it would undoubtedly be uncomfortable. But he had to keep moving, couldn’t slow down. He knew too much, and they, whoever  _they_  were exactly, would not want him to be a liability.

In the end he did sleep in another stolen car that he had parked in a ditch by the side of a dirt road somewhere. And as he’d predicted, it wasn’t comfortable.

When he woke up the next morning, he ate some remnants of his food (he’d thought ahead, something he was proud of in a situation like this), then pulled a map from the glove compartment. He’d really lucked out so far. That map was a gift from the gods.

And right now it told him there was literally no civilisation around for miles.

Well, if it wasn’t the first sign of his luck running out. Dean almost felt like waving at it.

He had to get a move-on though, because he had already run out of food and he still needed to find an IV and fluids somewhere for when he started going into withdrawal again. So he quickly scoured the map for anything useful. The closest hospital was really ridiculously far out, but he found something just slightly closer that looked like it could be a nursing home, which should be even better; they wouldn’t be nearly as cautious as hospitals were.

So he drove on, finding out how ridiculously little life there was in this area. There were a few fields he passed, but the crops had just been harvested, so everything looked brown, barren and empty. He didn’t even know what it was exactly that they’d been planting here, and if he was frank, he didn’t care. He just tried to keep the radio (which thankfully did work in this car) on the classic rock station as he drove.

By the time he arrived at the little town he’d seen on the map, it was late in the afternoon, and Dean was starving. He decided to go straight to the nursing home though. There should be a buffet for the oldies soon, and who knew, maybe the nurses were hospitable enough to let him join for dinner. And give him a sponge bath. Or was that too ambitious?

No, he didn’t have time anyway. But he might get some food there which meant he wouldn’t have to spend money at a diner and become traceable, and he already had a nice cover story to get them to teach him how to do an IV on himself, and maybe they even had some idea of where he could hide.

He wasn’t going to tell them the truth of course, definitely not. He wasn’t stupid. The police would be called. And right now, he just needed to lay low.

So when he stepped into the nursing home, the first place he headed for wasn’t reception – it was nurse Just-Swallowed-A-Pill-Dry-Face. He put on his most charming smile.

“Well hi, there,” he said.

The nurse gave him a look that made Meg seem like a sweet little angel. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure.

“I was wondering if a lovely lady like you could help me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “If you want to dump your granny here it’s reception you need.”

Dean actually managed to pull off quite a genuine look of confusion. “Wait, what? No, no. My nana already has a private nurse.”

This time, the nurse actually huffed. Dean was getting a bit fed up with the cow. He didn’t have time for this. But he needed to keep calm and stay charming. She’d warm up to the Winchester charm eventually. And if she didn’t, that was fine, not everyone was as susceptible. Maybe she just wasn’t interested in a smug little prick like him. That was fine. Plenty of other nurses in the building, right?

“I really hate to be a nuisance. But our nurse has only been in for two weeks and now she’s ill, and my nana really needs an IV. And I don’t know when our nurse gets better, so… I was wondering if you could show me how to do it? I’m sure you have very capable hands.” He went for a softer smile this time, and saw the woman warm up a little. Of course, she was perhaps about fifteen years older than him, he should’ve banked on the maternal instinct immediately. Ah well.

“Well, I guess I could show you… But if your nurse stays away for longer than a week, get a temporary replacement, okay? I prefer the idea of a professional handling your grandmother. What’s her name?”

“Which one? The lovely one, or the nurse?” Dean replied with a playful smile. This time, his smile was returned. Finally. He wanted to cry with this amazing streak of luck.

“You really are a charmer, aren’t you? Alright, handsome, let’s get you to my office.”

“See, I knew you were capable. Even have your own office, not too shabby indeed.”

“Are you always this chatty?”

“Only in good company, miss…”

“Nancy,” the woman now blushed. Dean gave himself a little mental pat on the shoulder.  _Still got it._

He followed her to a little office, where she quickly pulled out an IV set. “You wanna sit down, sweetheart?” she said with a sickly sweet smile. Dean just tried to ignore it and nodded, then sat down in an armchair. “Please, call me Robert.”

She smiled. “Bob.” It sent a shiver down his spine, and not exactly of the good kind. But once again, he ignored it and smiled back instead.

“So, Nancy, how long has a lovely lady such as you worked here?” Couldn’t hurt to do some small-talk. He needed to gain her trust, needed her to feel more comfortable to open up to him to get more information, and so that he would have someone to back him up in case he got caught stealing a few IV sets.

“Why, almost nineteen years,” the nurse replied as she unrolled the tubes. “Your grandma really is quite a lucky one. You know, if your nurse doesn’t show up again within the next week, I could put in a good word, maybe even drop by myself…”

“Check on my handiwork?” Dean flirted back easily. “That’s very considerate, Nancy. I’d appreciate that. You know what, I’ll let you know.”

She blushed all the way through her little demonstration and explanation, the effect of it not very appealing on her blotchy skin, but she really was quite a nice woman once you got past the harsh exterior. She somehow reminded Dean a little of Ellen, though with less confidence – and he would never in a million years hit on Ellen, of course. He liked his genitals, thank you very much.

When they were done, she quickly wrote down her phone number for him, which he was of course not going to keep, and in return he placed a soft kiss on her cheek as a thank you, causing her to blush even deeper, which was slightly regrettable. He asked her where the best diner was, but, just as he’d hoped, she assured him the food here was excellent, and he wasn’t in a hurry to leave, was he?

So he spent another forty minutes listening to chatty elderly people. Part of him really felt like Sammy would’ve loved this back in the day; he’d done quite a lot of volunteering so that Stanford would be even more likely to take him in and had always been very enthusiastic about it. But Dean quickly pushed down those memories. They’d only hurt now. He managed to ban them out by listening to lovely stories about long-lost lovers, romantic letters, and even a war story or two. He actually quite enjoyed himself. It was just kind of sad that it was while being on the run from some kind of mob/drug gang run by his brother (as far as he knew).

But since he’d left, he had started feeling better. Not healthier, but perhaps a little less stressed. The atmosphere in that house had been suffocating; he hadn’t noticed truly how bad it had been until now that he was removed from it. This far away from Sam and his poisonous company, he started feeling more like himself again. He hoped he’d never run into any of them again.

_ Except… _

NO. No way. He wasn’t going to let that thought pop up. It didn’t exist. He didn’t believe that. He didn’t want to see any of it ever again. Sure, he felt bad for Ellen, Jo, Charlie, Garth, Kevin, and even Sam, especially Sam. But not… He wasn’t even going to think it. Couldn’t let himself think it.

_Castiel._

Dean felt the overwhelming urge to stick his fingers in his ears and hum loudly, but somehow he felt like his company might find that a little odd, so he just thanked them for the stories and the food, and got up with the excuse that he needed to hit the can and then hit the road again.

Instead, he went into a little storage closet and grabbed the supplies he needed, which he stuffed into his duffel.

When he stepped out again, his body collided with that of Nancy’s, causing her to nearly tumble to the ground. He quickly caught her though.

“Whoops, sorry. Can’t have you falling on that pretty little backside, can we?” he said with a wink. She quickly brushed herself off, trying to regain some of her composure. “Bob,” she huffed, sounding slightly indignant and out of breath. “What were you doing in there?”

“Oh, I was looking for the restroom,” Dean answered airily. “It wasn’t in there, by the way.”

This pulled a laugh from Nancy. Good. It was nice to see her come out of her shell a little. “Well, I could’ve told you that, silly,” she retorted. “It’s down the hall and then to the left, you can’t miss it.”

He smiled back at her. “Thank you so much, Nancy, you’ve been an absolute dream. Oh, wait, actually, before I forget –”

He pulled the map from his back pocket. “I wanted to take nana for some fresh air soon, I was wondering if you know of any nice and quiet places nearby. Like little cabins or something. Just anything secluded. Nana likes her silence.”

Nancy thought for a moment as she squinted at the map. “Hmm, let me see… There.” She pointed to what looked like a small range of hills. “It’s a little wildlife park, not even on the maps, so not known to tourists, but very popular to locals. Most cabins out there were built by their grandparents, who’ve built it all with their bare hands. You seem like the fishing kind of guy, there’s some excellent opportunity for that there too.”

Dean smiled and placed another kiss on Nancy’s cheek. “Thanks, Nancy. You’re a star.”

He walked towards the toilets (always go before you drive) and waved back once more.

“I hope your nana will enjoy it,” Nancy called after him. He smiled back.

“I’m sure she will, Nancy. I’ll give you a call, yeah?”

That was the last he saw of her before he went around the corner.

Everything was going perfectly smooth.

~666~

“Clarence, what on earth are you doing?”

“I am packing. And I truly don’t understand that nickname, Meg, so would you please just call me Castiel?”

“Nah, don’t think so. Seriously, why the hell are you packing? Are you going after Dean right now?”

Castiel looked up, his expression thunderous. “I have my orders, Meg. Are you going to stand in my way? Because I truly don’t think that’s wise. Now, how much did Dean bring with him?”

Meg rolled her eyes as she sank down in a chair in the corner of the guest bedroom Castiel had been occupying. “All I’m saying is, give him a head start, Clarence. He kind of deserves it.”

“He’ll go to the police, and when he does, we’ll all have a major issue on our hands!”

This made the nurse laugh. “Oh Clarence, you really think he’ll do that? Rat out his brother? And tell the cops that he’s addicted to an illegal drug that will be taken off the market before it even officially appears on it, cutting him off forever? Cutting himself off from Sue  _and_  you, and Sam as well. Come on. It doesn’t seem likely to me.”

“Not everyone is as selfish as you,” Castiel spat as he threw a shirt into his bag. “Now  _tell me how much stuff he took with him_.”

“Jeez, what does it matter?”

“I’ll know how far he can get without having to stock up for supplies again.”

Meg sighed and got up. She walked over and placed her hands on the man’s shoulders. “Castiel. Please. Dean is a good man, but he is also an addict. Not just to Sue, but to you as well. You know that. So if you go after him now, you’re just bringing him what he craves and giving him less need to come back. Trust me, okay? He’ll come back. Just wait a few more days. Sam’s not concerned, hell, even Michael doesn’t seem concerned. So please. Just… wait. If he’s not back by Saturday, then you should probably go after him. He’s going to go through withdrawal soon anyway, so he won’t get that far, he’ll be easy enough to catch up on.”

Castiel met her gaze for a moment before looking away again and sighing. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Fine. But if this gets me into trouble you’re going to have to be the one to answer to it all. Zachariah said the orders are coming from high up this time. Really high up.”

Meg scoffed. “You think I care? I can handle a bit of scorning, don’t you worry, Clarence.” She gave a lewd smile before patting him on his lower arm and finally leaving the room, leaving Castiel to sink down into the very same chair the nurse had been sitting in with a groan. This was going to get him into trouble, he felt it already.

Dean and Meg, the two worst influences in his life. And he killed for a drug operation. Why he ever even listened to the nurse was a mystery to him. But part of him, the part that understood people and the way they thought, told him that she liked him. She wanted the best for him. If that meant defying his superiors, then maybe she was right.

But she couldn’t be. To defy orders would bring chaos to his life. Everything he worked for would crumble around him if he continued down this path.

But he wasn’t exactly  _defying_  orders right now, was he? He was just… delaying his execution of them. He could get away with that. For once.

Part of him wanted to go now, though. Wanted to chase after Dean, find him, drink him in, feel that tight heat around him again, feel the man writhe and moan beneath him, beg for his touch. Taste the salty sweat on his skin, smell the musk of his come in the sheets.

He was slowly starting to realise how addicted he truly was. He should never have come close to Dean. This was not good, not good at all.

And maybe that’s what Meg was trying to help him with. Make him take some time, some distance. Let him go through his own little withdrawal from Dean, so that his thoughts could be clear again and he could do his work without being influenced by his want, his hormones. His emotions.

No, that went too far. There were no emotions evolved. Just addiction.

Dean had to be flushed out of his system. And he would be. Castiel would take his time until he could bring Dean back without being influenced in any way.

That didn’t stop him from going to Ash to electronically track him down first, though.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, people. I was flooded in college work all of a sudden. Anyway, slightly shorter chapter this time. I wouldn't be surprised if I got some questions and rants after this one ^^ Enjoy!

It was almost too easy to break into the cabin. Dean had made sure that it wouldn’t be occupied for the next month, he’d asked the guy at the park reception desk (with a few lies about who he was of course, otherwise he’d never get anywhere). Now that he was here, all he had to do was stock up for food and get some more supplies for his little IV set. He had approximately – well, he had tomorrow to do that before he’d go through withdrawal again. Hopefully that would be enough.

When he sat down, he noticed that his limbs were trembling slightly. He felt a little light-headed and shaky, and knew the withdrawal was right around the corner. Time to stock up right now.

First he checked how well-stocked the cupboards were, which turned out to be pretty well-stocked, though most of it was canned or dried. That wasn’t a problem though, as far as he was concerned. He was going to be here for a month, anything he’d buy right now wouldn’t stay good anyway. After a bit more rummaging he saw that there were canned fruits too, which definitely was a good thing.

By the time he was done exploring it was dark outside, and Dean decided to call it a day and get himself some food, then go to bed. Though he didn’t really want to admit it, his hands were properly shaking, and he suddenly remembered that the time until his next withdrawal would be a little shorter than last time now. Good thing then that he was reasonably well-stocked up. Hopefully he would be able to still go out the next day to get a little more food before it all hit him again. Hopefully.

Oh well. He’d just have to find out. So he made himself some pasta, brushed his teeth, took a quick shower (the water pressure was not too bad, he was glad to find out) and went to bed. He was asleep within minutes.

~666~

When Dean woke up, the cabin was on fire.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelled like a good wood fire, and that didn’t really trigger any alarm bells in his head, so it wasn’t until he felt the smoke sting in his throat and the almost salty smoky smell hit the back of his throat that he shot up, coughing like a madman. He could taste it, could actually taste the smell. It burned, made his eyes sting and water. He tried to get up, to run out, but as soon as his body left the bed it collapsed on the floor. He tried to get up, but his limbs were heavy as lead and trembling violently, almost completely out of his control.

He could see the flames as well now; they were coming from the living room, which made sense since the kitchen was there as well. They seemed alive and furious as they roared and spat sparks at him, scorching his skin with their heat. Dean tried his best to raise an arm to protect his face, but it took so much effort, and in the meantime his mind was just screaming at him to get out, open the window and escape, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he was panicking, he was going to die right here right now he’d been right his luck couldn’t last forever and now he was going to burn alive like Jo almost did –

Silence.

He didn’t wake up, he didn’t feel a jolt, it was just… gone. All of it. He hadn’t blinked. His brain just felt like it had just blacked out, and it was incredibly unsettling.

He’d felt the heat. He’d tasted the smoke. How could that have been so real? He was even sweating like a pig, little streams of it pouring down his back.

When he tried to get up to go to the kitchen for some further investigation and a glass of water however he found out the heavy-limbed feeling  _hadn’t_  gone. He was still shaking, and he couldn’t get up. The sweat was now starting to sting in his eyes, blurring his vision, and maybe that’s what he had felt, his brain warping it to the sting of smoke. He wasn’t sure. He just knew that that had been terrifying and horribly real, and he was so weak and vulnerable right now. It terrified him.

“Come on,” he grunted at himself through gritted teeth. With a lot of effort and sweating he eventually managed to get there, drinking two-and-a-half glasses of water before starting to feel a little sick from the amount of it. He then grabbed a sandwich that was still left from yesterday and dragged himself back to bed again, managing to work it down before finally lying down again with a harsh exhale of breath. That had nearly taken him all his strength.

He realised that he needed to hook himself up to that IV as soon as possible, right now actually, before he really couldn’t function anymore. And suddenly he was scared. Because he hadn’t thought this through. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of bed at all in a few hours, never mind get to the kitchen again to get himself some food. He wouldn’t have enough strength to open any cans. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to hold his food down.

The IV wasn’t enough.

He was going to die.

~666~

In the end he had managed to get the IV in somehow, he was sure of it. He could feel the pull of the needle under his skin. Or he thought he could. But the room was swimming, colours were leaking and running down the walls like the world was a wet painting, and Dean was going mad.

He could hear the music from the Pit, could hear the people laugh and scream around him as the drugs kicked in for them. But when he looked around, he didn’t see the Pit. He saw the people though, their skulls caved in or their throats slit. Some of them seemed like they were fine, simply asleep, but Dean knew better. He knew they were all dead.

And in the middle of it all was Castiel, his eyes cold as he tilted his head. He didn’t speak, but Dean heard his voice nevertheless.

_ Every test subject will be disposed of until Sue is ready for the market. You are a subject, Dean. And you will not survive. _

The blue of the man’s eyes intensified, the electricity radiating and filling the room with blinding light until Dean had to look away. But he could still feel the cold scorch of it, and he screamed.

~666~

Dean knew he was dying. Between the nightmares, the hallucinations and the fevers he could actually feel the life drain from his body. How long could a person go without food? A week? Maybe two? But he couldn’t change his fluids. The bag he’d hung up had probably lasted a day, maybe a day-and-a-half. But after that he had about four days maybe before he would die from dehydration. And it felt horrible. It felt sickening. It made him feel like he was a piece of dried leather, or rotting meat under the sun.

It wasn’t too difficult to forget about that, though. His mind gave him plenty of distraction.

His nightmares were mainly made up of either Castiel or Sam. His dreams of Sam really freaked him out. Sometimes his little brother would smile at him coldly, then shoot him in the head, or do something else that made Dean scream while sweat poured down his body. Other times, Sam would hang there from strings, looking like a broken puppet, all tangled up and screaming for Dean to rescue him.

And though every dream of Castiel was a nightmare as well, Dean started to seek refuge in them.

They were the type of nightmare where everything felt relatively normal or even enjoyable, until you woke up and you started freaking out. And it were those dreams that became Dean’s new drug. They were usually sexual, memories or sick, twisted fantasies. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He sought refuge in their temporary high, hid from his nightmares of Sam in them, indulged in every fuck, whether Cas drilled into him or slowly took him apart, or Dean perhaps even rode Cas to change it up. He would happily take the low that followed, the nausea that made him sob and gag every time he woke from them.

He couldn’t measure time. The images, smells, sounds, dreams and hallucinations all blurred into one big nightmare as it all spun around him. They became darker and darker over time, not in content but in colour. As if the lights in his dreams were dimming slowly.

The last thing he saw in the darkness was Castiel’s face, looming over him as he shoved something, his fingers, his cock, Dean didn’t even know anymore, didn’t care, down his throat, while Sam stood in the background, laughing.

And then, finally, it was silent. He was cocooned in black. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t cold. It was just silent.

Safe.

Black.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, a new chapter already! The last chapter was kind of cruel to leave you with, after all... Anyway, yes, here you go. Enjoy :)

Dean was choking.

Except Dean was dead, so how could he be choking?

It didn’t really matter though, because choking was choking and right now he just needed whatever was jammed down his throat to be taken out before he would actually die. Luckily someone was right there to help him.

When Dean opened his eyes, a sharp stinging pain shot through his skull at the exposure to the bright lights, so he quickly closed them again with a soft grunt. He hadn’t been able to see who was there with him, and whoever it was, wasn’t speaking, so there was no way Dean could find out without opening his eyes.

Or asking. Was he able to talk?

A hoarse splutter and another searing pain (though this time in his throat) told him that no, at the very moment he couldn’t talk. Luckily he didn’t have to, because a gravelly voice spoke right next to him.

“Try not to speak. You’ve had a feeding tube down your throat for the past three-and-a-half weeks.”

“C- Cas?” Dean rasped, immediately falling into a coughing fit again. Something cool was pressed against his lips, and he recognised it as a glass of water, which he gulped down. When he finally opened his eyes, Castiel was sitting next to him, his gaze cool.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean let out a defeated sigh as he closed his eyes again. “Why are you here, Cas?” Damn, it hurt his voice to talk. But right now he genuinely didn’t care.

“I came to find you,” was the simple answer. “I’m here to bring you back.”

“So you can –” another coughing fit, more water – “so you can play with me some more? You’re not completely done with me, so you gotta keep me until you’re finally bored of me?”

Cas tilted his head a little. “No,” he replied. “I have my orders. And my orders are to bring you back.”

Dean frowned at that. “Orders from whom?”

“High up,” was all Cas seemed to be willing to share. “Just be grateful I’m here. Without me, you would’ve died. I’m assuming that wasn’t the plan, going by your IV? Which was put in sloppily, I might add.”

Dean rolled his eyes at that, but the movement sent another stinging pain shooting through his skull, so he gave up halfway through. With a sigh he closed his eyes again.

“So why do they want me back?”

“Well,” Castiel answered, “Sam needs you. He works better with you by his side, believe it or not. And out here, anything could happen to you. He wants you close.”

“Oh, does he really now?” Dean grunted. “Maybe he shouldn’t have let me go then.”

“He’s not the older sibling, nor is he your parent or caretaker. The two of you are grown men. He won’t stop you from doing what you want.”

“But he  _will_  send you to get me back, huh? Yeah, that doesn’t sound like I’m a prisoner at all. One hundred percent free man, that’s me.”

“I was supposed to keep an eye on you after you ran off, make sure you weren’t dying from your withdrawal!” Castiel was really starting to sound frustrated. “Which you were! So now I’m bringing you back, because clearly you can’t take care of yourself, and your brother needs you.”

“You’re lying, and it’s kinda obvious,” Dean said, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out more light.

For a moment it was silent, and he suddenly realised he’d been kind of blunt to a guy who killed people regularly. He swallowed harshly, and it almost felt like the sound echoed in the small bedroom. But then, to his relief, Castiel spoke up again, breaking the tense silence.

“Does it matter?”

“What?” Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but that wasn’t quite it.

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m lying or not. It doesn’t matter what my official orders were, or why I was given them. In the end, you  _will_  come back with me. For your brother, perhaps, though part of you for yourself as well, no matter how badly you want to ignore that part. Don’t deny it, Dean,” he cut Dean off who was about to protest. “No matter what you’re going to say, no matter what the ulterior motive is here, you and I both know you’re coming back with me. You can’t help it. In the end, you’ll always end up right back with your brother.”

Dean swallowed and dropped his arm by his side again. It took him a moment, but then a thought occurred to him.

“You don’t know why they want me back there either, do you?”

Cas looked like he was going to answer, but suddenly seemed a little lost for words.

“Oh, you poor son of a bitch,” Dean said as he carefully pushed himself upright. “They didn’t tell you anything.”

“They don’t need to. I don’t need to know.”

“No, you just need to follow orders like a good little soldier.”

“Well at least I can only fail my superiors and not my brothers, or worse, myself,” Cas spat with a snarl.

The silence was palpable as Dean held the gaze of the man who had been sexually abusing him and overpowering him for weeks now. Then he finally spoke again, his voice dangerously low.

“Your life must be so easy. But I tell you, Cas. One of these days you’re going to hear and see things that are going to make you doubt what you’re doing. It always happens. And when it does, things will suddenly become a hell of a lot more complicated for you.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and Castiel quickly reached for him to prevent him from falling over. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my stuff,” Dean grunted. He wasn’t going to admit it, but the guy was right. In the end, he would end up with Sam anyway. He could just as easily go right now.

“You’re not fit for travel, Dean.”

“I think I’m fine to sit on my ass in a car, thanks,” Dean snapped. For a moment Cas’ gaze hardened a little, but then he let go of Dean’s arm to let him do what he wanted, which Dean did feel a little smug about.

Within twenty minutes they were on the road. It would’ve gone quicker if Dean hadn’t been in such a bad state, still recovering from the withdrawal, but that was just how it was.

It didn’t take long to find out that travelling with Castiel was about a thousand times more painful than with Meg. The guy was less chatty than the nurse, as hell-bent on keeping the radio off, and this time Dean wasn’t driving so he couldn’t keep his mind on the road. It was mind-numbingly boring.

He did a few attempts at making small-talk, but it really got him nowhere, just a few raised eyebrows and eventually getting pointedly ignored. Great. In the end Dean decided to just try and sleep through it. Still needing to recover, that thankfully turned out to be quite easy.

Even though he slept through most of it, it was still a long drive. Castiel didn’t stop anywhere to rest, just to fill up on gas. The guy had to be tired, but if he was, he wasn’t showing it. The continuous drive was welcome though; it gave Dean the time and opportunity to think, to sort out his thoughts.

He had royally screwed up back there. Hadn’t thought his plans through at all, and had nearly ended up dead. And Dean might be many things, suicidal wasn’t one of them. It had been reckless and stupid. And he definitely didn’t want to come so close to death ever again.

Even despite that though he was on his way back to a criminal organisation now. Which couldn’t exactly be called a healthy lifestyle. Dean gathered most people in that branch wouldn’t grow very old.

And still he’d practically jumped into Cas’ car. He hadn’t given it much thought, again. But now he had the time to overthink what he was doing, and why. How he was going to approach things this time.

Of course he was doing it for Sam. In the end, the guy was still his little brother. And Dean was never going to just abandon his little brother, who he’d taken care of his entire life. Why Dean had run out on him, he couldn’t quite understand, but he had a slight feeling that Sue had been scrambling his brain. Now that he was off the drug, more or less clean again, he could already feel his thoughts becoming clearer.

Which brought him to his approach when he would get back.

First of all, no more Sue. No matter how much he wanted it, he wasn’t going to get back on that toxic waste. And Dean was a stubborn son of a bitch. He could resist a drug. For Sam.

Cas had made quite a good point back in the cabin. It didn’t matter what anyone’s motive was, whether they were lying or not. They were still doing what they were doing, and if Dean couldn’t change that, he would just have to play along. He would have to be there and help Sam through it, help him make sure the ship wouldn’t sink and none of them would end up in jail, or worse.

Running away had been stupid. It had been selfish. He hadn’t been able to handle what was going on back in that house, and so he’d ran, ignoring the problems, willing them to go away. Except they hadn’t gone away, not for Sam.

He couldn’t help Sam escape, the guy was in too deep. He was right where he wanted to be, and if someone didn’t want to be rescued, it kind of became impossible to do that. So no. Dean wasn’t going to leave his little brother stuck in that tar pit and run away. He was going to dive back in to be there by Sam’s side.

~666~

When they finally arrived back at the house, it was dark, just like back when Dean had arrived there for the first time. And just like then, Ellen was right there on the doorstep. When she saw Dean, her eyes grew wide for a moment, and Dean could swear he saw some tears glistening, but then he pulled her into a hug, giving her the dignity of hiding those tears in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He breathed in the smell of her hair, that familiar smell from when he and Sam had been kids. He didn’t quite know what he was apologising for; running away, coming back. But it didn’t really matter. She just hugged him back, held him close, not speaking, not judging. He nearly felt tears sting in his own eyes, but he blinked them away. He was going to be a real gangster now. He had to toughen up.

So he let go again, though still giving her arm one last gentle squeeze before going into the house to find Sam. On his way he bumped into Garth, who shot him an incredulous look but then gave him a kind smile and a nod, and Charlie, who just bit her lip and shook her head before walking on. That had sucked. Hopefully Dean could salvage his friendship with her. She was like a little sister to him, like Jo.

When he got to Sam’s study, he had to take a deep breath. His heart was pounding just a bit faster. What would the guy say? What would he do? Would he be cold and distant again? Would he welcome Dean back and dismiss him? Dean didn’t really want to know. But he couldn’t walk away again. Not from this. He had come back for Sam, so he had to face him too now.

He knocked on the door.

For a short moment he thought Sam wasn’t there, but then he heard shuffling, and suddenly the door opened, and Sam was right there, his eyes wide with surprise. Which meant that he either hadn’t expected Dean to come back, or hadn’t been the one to send Cas in the first place. Another bit of proof that Cas had been lying. But it didn’t matter. Dean was here now, he was here for Sam.

A whole range of emotions flashed by on the younger man’s face. For once he wasn’t hiding them. It was clear that his mind was racing, thinking of what to say, what to do. Dean waited anxiously for the mask to finally slip back into place.

But then the guy pulled him into a tight hug, and Dean gasped from surprise and the sudden lack of oxygen. For a moment he was frozen, but then he hugged his brother back, held onto him for dear life.

And for just a moment, just like that, everything seemed alright.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little lengthier chapter :) I'd like to say though that this story will contain some minor character deaths. Only one or two probably. But if you can't handle that, this is not your story. But hey, it's quite a dark story, so... Anyway, I'll let you read on. Enjoy ;)

“I took good care of him, Meg.”

“What about bedsores?”

“Do you not trust me?”

Meg scoffed at that. “I trust you too much, Clarence, which is why I need to double-check Dean’s vitals. I’m more prone to overlook something in my trust of you.”

Castiel frowned at that, while Dean batted the nurse’s hand away. “Jeez, I’m fine, Meg, stop fussing. You heard the guy, he took good care of me.”

Meg raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? And how would you know?”

“I feel fine, don’t I? Is that not enough?”

That made the nurse laugh. “No, Dean, that is definitely not enough. You’ve been using Sue, which is a drug still in its early stages of development. You might not notice it, but you are definitely  _not_  fine. Remember your hormones?”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been a lot more stable lately,” Dean spoke up in his own defence, but Meg shook her head. “Not my point. Maybe your hormone levels are balancing out again, I won’t know until my test results are back, but my point is that you didn’t  _feel_  ill, even though there was something wrong with your body. More symptoms might show up over time, and you’re gonna have to report every single one to me. Weekly check-ups from now on, you hear me?”

“Alright, sheesh,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as Meg pulled a blood-filled syringe from his arm and dabbed the puncture wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

“There,” she sighed. “Now go frolic with your brother, or whatever it is you do these days.”

Dean jumped out of the chair and strode to the door while Meg called after him: “And don’t you dare to skip out on your check-ups!” He gave her the finger, and with that he was gone.

Castiel hadn’t moved from his spot behind the chair Dean had been sitting in. He looked at Meg, only slight worry on his face. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“I think the guy has a pretty tough body,” the nurse answered. “He’ll recover somewhat, at least. I can’t guarantee anything, though.” She sighed again and shook her head. “I don’t know why I do this job sometimes. I seriously hate patients.”

“The money,” Castiel reminded the nurse, drawing a laugh from her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely what got me in this mess in the first place,” she replied. “Don’t know why I stick around, though. Sometimes it’s all kind of tiring.”

“Then why  _do_  you stick around?”

Meg frowned a little at that. “Not sure. Usually I’m gone as soon as I feel the ground shifting beneath my feet.”

“Is it shifting now?” Castiel tilted his head a little. Meg gave him a calculating look before speaking again.

“Who’s giving you orders, Castiel?”

“Not my place to ask,” he answered almost immediately.

“Hmm.” For a moment the nurse stayed silent, sunken in thought.

“We’re standing on quicksand, Clarence,” she finally answered. “That’s how much the ground is shifting. We’re being sucked into a sinkhole. And it’s a pretty damn dark one.”

Castiel frowned, a hint of  _something_  in his eyes. Doubt, perhaps?

“Then why are you still here?”

This time Meg seemed to know what to answer. “I think I’m stuck.” Realisation dawned on her features, and her eyes grew a little wider as she looked back at Castiel.

“We’re stuck here, Clarence. The both of us. You don’t even know it, that’s how bad it is.”

“I can walk away any time I want,” he retorted. “I do so all the time.”

“And I can leave the grounds whenever I want too, as long as they know where I’m going and know for certain that I’ll be back,” she urged. “The only reason I’m still here is because I don’t know how to get away, Clarence, and neither do you. You don’t want to get away either, do you? You don’t see a reason to. So whenever you leave, they know you’ll be back. You just try to leave without giving them a reason, just try. See what happens. I guarantee you, they’ll ask questions. They’ll not let you go easy.”

Castiel huffed at that. “You’re being paranoid.” His voice didn’t sound as unwavering as before though.

“And I should be! Just because they treat me right doesn’t mean I should blindly trust my superiors! They are the ones in power, Clarence. They can change their mind about my usefulness within the blink of an eye. And when they do, they will have all the power to dispose of me without a second thought.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“Not everyone is as loyal as you, Clarence. In fact, you’ll find very few people as loyal as you.” She bit her lip, then looked up at the man.

“You can’t tell anyone we’ve had this conversation, Castiel. Not a single person, you hear me? They’ll not like it. They won’t trust me anymore. They’ll want to get rid of me. And you too.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“Yes. I’ve made you doubt your superiors. That makes you a possible liability.”

This time, his expression turned to stone. “I do not doubt my superiors,  _nurse Masters_.” He closed in on her, looming further over the nurse with each step. “If you want to turn me against my own, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.” By now he had her pressed up against her desk, his own body pressed against hers. He could feel her breath hitch as he leaned in until his mouth was right next to her ear.

“Every room in the house is bugged,” he whispered, keeping his lip movement to a minimum. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I am sorry. I really was rather fond of you.”

Because when Castiel walked away, leaving the nurse shaking in her office, he knew that every word of their conversation had been picked up, bar perhaps from those last few he had whispered to her.

She’d been right, he might have been compromised too, which meant that he really had to act as cold and loyal as he had always been. But Meg was done for. She’d sealed her fate with her words of treason.

And Castiel hadn’t lied. When he’d started talking to her, he hadn’t meant for the conversation to go that way, for Meg to end up like that. And he was fond of her, he really was. But if there was one thing he’d learned from his…  _addiction_  to Dean, it was that he couldn’t afford emotional attachments. And if there was one thing that he deducted from his conversations with both Meg and Dean, and his stay here, it was that it wasn’t simply just about not being able to  _afford_  emotional attachments. In this place, emotional attachments would kill him.

There was no escape from your fate here once it was sealed.

And for a moment, Castiel suddenly wasn’t entirely fine with that anymore. For a moment, he felt the urge to find out where the orders were coming from, what their purpose had been exactly.

But that was the part of him that liked Meg, the part that had wanted to follow her emotions. And he knew emotional attachments would result in his death.

So he let go of those feelings. He straightened his back and went to find Zachariah to hear about his next mission.

~666~

Dean couldn’t deny it; part of him was scared of the world he was about to enter. It would be a different one from before he left. Back then he’d been a random test subject. Now he was going to be the second Mr. Winchester, Sam’s right hand at the head of a criminal organisation. Or that was what he was aiming for. He had to make himself indispensable, so that he could stay and keep an eye on Sam without being rid of. That was his first priority right now.

So this time when he knocked on Sam’s office door, he wasn’t fidgeting or trying to keep his posture in check. He held his head high when he entered, and gave his little brother a nod when he was invited to sit down.

“Okay, I’m not gonna beat around the bush, Sammy. I want in.”

Sam looked up at that. “Dean…”

“I can help,” he insisted. “Just show me the ropes and I’ll be right here with you.”

He was sure this time when he saw something similar to grief flash in his little brother’s eyes, though it was quickly replaced with now familiar emptiness.

“Are you sure? It’s not a safe world. And there’s no turning back.”

“Being a junkie isn’t a safe world either. I’d rather be clean and stand by your side facing the mafia than go back to that again.” He tried to let the emotion show in his eyes, try to beg Sam with his gaze;  _please let me just take care of you again, like old times, I’ll keep us safe, please_. He wasn’t sure if the guy saw it, if his decision was influenced by that gaze, but eventually Sam nodded.

“Okay. I’ll let people know that you’re my co-pilot from now on.”

He stood up, and Dean got up as well, but only realised he wasn’t shown the door when Sam opened a drawer and pulled out a map.

“What’s this?”

“This,” Sam answered, “is important. So pay attention.”

Dean took a closer look, and realised that it was a map of the entire county. Red and green circles had been drawn on it, along with blue lines and some scribbled words.

“These,” Sam pointed at some of the circles, “are territories of certain gangs. Now, I don’t expect you to remember the names yet, but I do want you to keep the locations in mind. We can’t just drive through those territories, and we certainly can’t deal there, or pick up subjects, or even come looking for ingredients.” He looked up at Dean to make sure the older man was still following him.

“We are not a gang, Dean, nor are we low-life drug dealers. We are an organisation, a company almost. Call it a business. A family business, now, if you’d like. So we stay away from gangs and dealers. We’re not like them, we have nothing to do with them. We’re neutral ground, and we like to stay that way.”

Dean nodded. He understood that, especially when thinking back to their exchanges with Clark. Those had been swift, and with the least amount of fuss or security they could bring.

“No initiating wars,” he said.

“Exactly,” Sam replied. “Now, because we don’t deal with normal drug dealers or gangs, it’s difficult to find suppliers or sponsors. The product is not on the market yet, so we rely heavily and struggle to find both.”

“And yet you manage,” Dean frowned. “There was a formal party when I came here. Those were sponsors. Who the hell would sponsor a recreational drug?”

“Foreign countries,” Sam shrugged. “The laws are a little less strict in some countries, and there’s a few people who see potential. All we need is one little push and some advertisement, spreading rumours and such, and voilà.”

Dean hummed. “I’d like to know what that one little push is, Sam.”

“Dean, it’s not important…”

“Important enough. I’m your co-pilot now, remember? I’d like to know if I can trust our benefactors.”

“It’s just some woman,” Sam answered. “Friends with Crowley I think, filthy rich, loves the idea. She just tells other people about his trust and potential in the product. She’s influential enough for some to listen.”

“You realise how vulnerable we are in putting our complete faith in the hands of one woman and in depending on her to get our funding, right?”

“Yeah, I realise that,” Sam replied. “But it’s what we’ve got. And so far her support has been absolute. We’ll just have to keep banking on that.”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t happy with it, not at all, but there weren’t too many other options.

“So when’s the next formal party?” he asked.

“Two weeks from now. Why, you wanna join me there?”

For a moment Dean thought about it. It would make him visible, show people that he played an important part here, just like Sam. It would secure his place more.

And maybe he could start digging into the finer details of the operation. Could start trying to find out how everything was woven together, how much Sam really was in charge. And he felt that the mysterious benefactor might just play a role in this, so if he could meet her, he might just get a lot further. But he needed to stay subtle. He couldn’t let anyone know he wasn’t 100% dedicated to the cause.

Except for Charlie, perhaps. She could really help him actually. He felt hesitant about potentially compromising her, though.

But before he got there, he needed people to trust him. He needed to play the big boss along with Sam before he could start digging.

So he smiled with his typical Dean Winchester charm. “Sure. Sign me up, Sammy.”

It wasn’t until later, when his talks with Sam about some of the workings and roles within the house had been concluded, that he realised there was one other person who knew he had his doubts about everything here.

Castiel.

So far the guy hadn’t ratted him out, but he couldn’t know for sure how long it would stay that way.

So he had to make sure Cas would keep his mouth shut.

Now, he realised threatening was probably the worst way of convincing him. Something about the guy screamed  _push me and I push back_ , even though he effortlessly followed orders from his superiors. Probably never got threatened by them. They didn’t need to. Castiel didn’t think, he just did, it seemed.

Killing him was just as stupid. A dead body, or even a missing person, especially one as known as Cas, would draw attention.

And then there was emotionally compromising him.

Now, the last time Dean had spent time with the man, there had been zero sexual tension between them, for the first time since they had met actually. It had been strange. But for the first time, it had also felt like Castiel didn’t have power over him. And Dean had seen the look in the man’s eyes when he’d pointed out that Cas didn’t know a single thing about what was going on. He’d gotten through to him, somehow, even if only a little. Something had happened in that cabin.

Afterwards, Castiel had been cold and distant though, almost as if he’d cut himself off from Dean completely. Just like Dean had cut himself off from Sue.

Something Castiel had to have done for a reason.

Dean had an influence on him.

So he decided he would have to exploit that influence. He was going to emotionally compromise Castiel, a cold-hearted killer.

He was going to have to start sleeping with the guy again.

Somehow, the prospect of that made Dean’s heart pound faster than the prospect of becoming a gangster boss had. Whether it was fear, adrenaline, or something else though, he didn’t know.

And frankly, he didn’t want to know either.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight delay, but I'm pretty sure it's worth it. Because this isn't just a longer chapter, it also contains a pretty big plot reveal. Hope you like it ;)

In the next two weeks, Dean didn’t see Cas once. It unsettled him a little, but the guy was probably just working. It wasn’t any of Dean’s business. He was busy enough as it was.

It turned out that Sam actually did a surprising amount of things Dean had had no idea of. There was a lot of travelling and meeting up with important men to talk about territory and business transactions, because apparently it was Sam himself who chose who they bought their ingredients from, since he didn’t trust anyone else with it. And it was during these meetings that Dean could really see parts of that pre-law course. Sam was a master at putting down the facts and negotiating and could really be a cold-hearted son of a bitch when he had to. Dean clearly still had a lot to learn.

The week of the party itself would be a busy one. On Monday the brothers would have a meeting with the Arbauld family, a Canadian drug cartel ( _“you don’t ignore or turn down an invitation, Dean, that’s as good as declaring war. You just go and make clear how business stands”_ ), Tuesday they would be driving all day and on Wednesday they would have the party.

Their journey to the little town that housed the Canadian family went smoothly. Most of the conversations between Sam and Dean were about business, but that was because the business was their life now. They didn’t have much else to talk about. They couldn’t afford the distraction of sentimentalities, and Dean knew better than to start interrogating Sam about what was really going on in the house. He still couldn’t know for sure yet if Sam was to be trusted, and the guy didn’t act any differently towards him outside of the house, so if Sam  _was_  being controlled, he was probably still under surveillance, even now. Dean just had to figure things out on his own.

That Monday felt weird. They woke up in comfortable silence in their little motel room, brushed their teeth together, then went to eat breakfast together at the local diner. It all just felt so… normal. The only thing that seemingly separated them from the regular morning crowd, was that they were wearing suits (though both men had taken their jackets off and had their sleeves rolled up). You wouldn’t think they were going to visit a drug cartel that day.

And if Dean was honest, he kind of enjoyed this, this little moment of normality with his little brother that he’d missed for so long. But part of him was also slightly… antsy. He wasn’t used to this anymore. It just felt slightly off. They ran a family business that was currently creating the newest big hit in drugs. Sure, sometimes Dean craved simplicity. But, well… He was on his way to negotiate with an actual drug cartel. So sue him. Maybe he did feel a little… excited.

Nevertheless he decided to do the polite thing and make small-talk while he ate his fried eggs and bacon and Sam ate his whatever-with-extra-greens.

“So who’s looking after the house right now without you or me there?” he said around a bite of egg, careful not to spray his brother’s crisp white button-up with it. Sam just raised his eyebrow.

“Ellen, of course. And please dude, just eat with your mouth closed.”

_Dude._  Dean rolled his eyes, but on the inside he couldn’t help but think that the old nickname felt a little weird. It sounded too informal for their current relationship. Sam was probably getting affected by the whole diner scene.

“Right. Should’ve known.” He stuffed some more egg into his mouth, deserving an eye-roll from his brother. “So, Sammy, tell me, what happens when we get our product on the market? How does it work with our sponsors? I mean, how do they get their money back? Are we selling our product to them, or…”

“Well, no. Not only production, but also sale and distribution will all run from us. If I sell our product to any corporations, they will try to analyse and recreate it, and we’ll lose all our money because we won’t be the number one suppliers anymore. No, once it’s all ready for the market, it should be relatively doable for us to keep producing without splashing out on too many expensive ingredients. We’ll make enough money through selling it to pay our sponsors back and still produce more.”

“And the sponsors are fine with that? Because I can’t really imagine them to just lay down and accept that plan of action.”

Sam’s face had fallen again. Oh yeah, leave it to Dean to push the guy back behind his masks and become a dick. But at least Dean had come to know this Sam. He now knew how to deal with him. And it was a lot easier than bitch-face Sam. Less emotions. More simplicity. More business.

“No, most of our sponsors won’t like it, which is why they don’t know. I won’t sell my product to them until I’ve made enough money to support everything without needing to fall back on their help again. Our little nudger however  _has_  accepted this plan of action.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Oh has she now? And how’s that?”

“She trusts me to keep my end of the bargain,” Sam said simply, as if that explained everything.

“And will you?”

Dean was sort of expecting Sam to pull his bitch-face, but the guy was clearly too much in business mode after that push from him, so instead he just frowned.

“Yes, Dean. Otherwise no-one will trust to work with me, and I will lose all my future clients.”

Dean had to nod at that. It made sense, after all.

The rest of the morning was spent in a slightly awkward silence between the brothers. Sam made a phone-call to Ellen to check up on the house while Dean read up on the Arbaulds. It was relatively boring and felt oddly domestic at times.

Dean didn’t like it.

He preferred to be moving, to get some action. So when the rusty clock on the wall finally struck three, he groaned in relief, stretched and grabbed the keys to his Baby before Sam could even ask him if he was ready to go.

Dean almost had to laugh when he saw the Arbauld house come into view.

Just like Sam’s mansion, it was absolutely massive. Unlike Sam’s mansion though, this house was modern, all glass and steel. Dean could easily see a few important men in suits standing in some of the rooms, clearly the local security team. Hell, he could even see some guns here and there.

“Eh, Sam?” he muttered. “I feel kinda naked, being here with just you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an excellent shot,” his brother replied under his breath.

“Yeah, I don’t think that matters when there’s eight of them and two of us.”

“I’ve been in worse situations.”

Okay then. “And how did you get out of those?”

Sam looked up at the house for a moment before answering. “I talked my way out,” he then said.

Well that was great. Dean really hoped the Arbaulds were the types to listen when everything turned to shit.

They were greeted at the door by a woman who actually looked like she wasn’t in the security team but instead part of the family, and were led through the open living room into a big office, where they were sat down to wait for Edward Arbauld, head of the family and apparently the woman’s nephew. Dean wondered for a moment why the woman wasn’t in charge if she was older, but the way she sat down behind the main desk and started reading and writing on documents, greying blond hair pulled back tight into a bun, back ramrod straight, told him she was probably pretty high up in the hierarchy. Maybe they shared the throne.

Dean had gone on two rodeos with Sam the previous week (fair enough, one of them had only been a Skype call, but still), so he more or less expected more death threats for today. What he didn’t expect was how Edward walked in with a calm expression, almost friendly.

The man was quite tall, but not very broad, and didn’t seem much older than thirty-five. His sandy hair was short and he had a light stubble, but in contrast to that slightly rugged image, his eyes were surprisingly kind, though there was a slight edge to them. He shook both brother’s hands and welcomed them to their house, and Dean suddenly felt slightly out of his element. He was definitely going to let this be handled by Sam.

“Well, I would love to take the time to get a little better acquainted, but sadly we both have very busy lives,” Edward spoke, his voice rich and warm and his Canadian accent slightly tilted. “So let’s get down to business. Mr. Winchester, there have been rumours about your activities, rumours that I believe to be very true. Am I right in saying you are creating a brand-new drug?”

Dean cast his brother a sideway glance to find that Sam actually looked… open, maybe? His body language was close to friendly, but more alert. It was completely different from what Dean usually saw. His little brother really was a chameleon, and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” the younger man answered. “No point in denying it, I’d say, if you’re so certain.”

Edward nodded and leaned back in his chair a little. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Well,” Sam replied, carefully weighing his words, “it’s all still a little rusty. Sponsors come slow, as you can imagine, and it’s not easy to find willing buyers.”

So that’s what this was about, Dean suddenly realised. The Arbauld family was a potential buyer. The thought made him frown though. Sam had said that they shouldn’t and wouldn’t get involved with drug cartels. So what was the plan here then?

“Well, you might just have found someone,” Edward smiled. “Your employee sent me a few details, as you know, and I definitely like your idea. It’s creative. However, I couldn’t help but think that there was information missing.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, well, as you know, this is all very sensitive information to just send over, digitally or on paper. You are more than welcome to attend my party this Wednesday though, if you want to learn more.”

Edward seemed to consider this for a moment, then looked at his aunt. “What do you think, Beth?” he said, his voice lowered. “Do we have the time?”

The woman checked a little calendar and nodded. “We have the time, and it’s definitely worth checking out, I’d say.”

Edward smiled at that. “Well, you heard Beth. And I put a lot of trust in her judgment.”

Sam nodded again. “I’m glad to hear it. However, this could have been done over the phone. Instead, you invited both me and my brother over for a meeting. So what else was is that you wanted to discuss?”

Dean sat up a little straighter. This was where it would get really important, he knew.

“Well, I know how you struggle with sponsors and buyers,” Edward replied, his tone a lot more serious now. “And knowing this business, I understand fully if you prefer to keep most of the control on sales. So I thought to myself – I could offer to be a buyer, but I could also do more.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at that. “And what would that be, Mr. Arbauld?” he spoke up, his voice a lot cooler than his brother’s.

“Access to Canada.”

Dean looked at his little brother, who had raised his eyebrows. The guy was clearly interested.

“I have a lot of ties, fingers in many pies and all that,” Edward continued. “And I live very close to the border. I could make export to the north a dream for you.”

Except it couldn’t just be that easy. “What’s the catch?” Dean asked. “This can’t be a free service.”

Edward turned his smile to Dean at this, making the other man squirm in his seat just a little.

“You’re right, charity always seems to come with a price somehow, doesn’t it?” He then turned back to Sam. “Can you guess what it is, Mr. Winchester?”

“Szarek,” Sam answered grimly, and Edward nodded.

“We could work together, Sam,” he said. “Szarek is gaining in strength and territory rapidly, and soon he’ll be here, and he’ll try to cut off my access to my own homeland, for both me and you, thus effectively crippling us both. And he has the manpower, he has the ingenuity. He’ll worm his way into the legal system and he  _will_  take me out. And then he’ll come for you. Only if we stand together, we can defy him and stay our own men without having to bow down to that power-hungry lunatic.”

Sam stared ahead, clearly deep in thought. After a moment or two he finally answered.

“You’re going to have to give me some time to consider this, Edward. I see your point, and you’re very right. He’ll come for you first, and then for me, and separately we don’t stand a chance against him. But this is a big decision to make.” He sighed. “I really didn’t want to get caught up in politics.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” Edward replied. “Szarek is closing in, and he’s closing in fast. He’s going to force you into these politics whether you want it or not. So take too much time with your decision and your last line of defence will be gone.”

“I think two days should suffice,” Beth, Edward’s aunt, spoke up. “You can inform us at the party.”

Sam smiled, but Dean knew his masks, and he could see the flicker of fury behind this one. He followed his little brother’s example as they both stood up and shook the Arbaulds’ hands.

“Two days seems fair,” Sam said as he gripped Edward’s hand tightly. “It was a pleasure meeting you in person, Edward. And you, Beth. See you on Wednesday.”

They were guided out of the house, and once they were standing outside in the weak north sun again, Sam let out a trembling sigh.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean said softly, but Sam shook his head minutely.

“Not here,” he answered in a low mutter. So they got into the car and drove back to the motel, where they would get some food and rest up for the drive back tomorrow.

After dinner, Dean let out a sigh of satisfaction. As soon as he saw Sam’s expression though, he became serious again.

“Sammy, you gotta tell me what’s wrong here. Helping Arbauld doesn’t sound too bad.”

But his little brother shook his head. “Szarek is a pretty big drug lord, Dean. He’s swooping in from Alaska and taking the entire north border by storm. Joining Arbauld  _might_  help us keep our business from being bulldozed to the ground, but it will probably result in a bloodbath.”

“And if we don’t join?”

“A bloodbath nevertheless. Szarek will slaughter us.”

Dean thought for a moment, then perked up. “And what if we side with Szarek?”

But Sam just sighed at that. “No blood bath, but the Arbaulds will not take kindly to us. And our business will likely become extremely restricted.”

“But we’ll still have access to Canada, Szarek will give it to us after overthrowing Edward, and from there export to Europe will definitely be easier. And you said he had Alaska too? From Alaska we can easily send our ware to Asia as well. Come on, Sam. It’s the best option. You wanna survive this or not?”

Dean might sound a little too enthusiastic to be appropriate, but come  _on_ , the world was open to them! This was one hell of an opportunity!

Sam laughed bitterly at his brother’s expression. “I guess you’re right, Dean. But we should do it the smart way, without provoking any early wrath. We’ll tell Edward that we’ll join him, but once shit hits the fan, we’ll side with Szarek. Charlie should probably send Szarek a message in advance so that he’ll not…”

The guy’s face suddenly fell, and he swore loudly.

“What, Sam, what is it?”

“I don’t know if I can just do this,” Sam admitted, dragging his hand through his hair. “My other sponsors, my nudger, they might not…  _Fuck!_ ” He threw his phone against the wall, where it shattered into pieces. “’S okay,” he muttered as Dean quickly went to grab the object, or its pieces at least. “I can get a new one.”

Dean sighed as he picked up the broken bits of metal and plastic to throw into the trashcan. This was frustrating. And so goddamn  _difficult_. Just a little too much politics for him, he had to admit.

He was just about to drop the last pieces of the phone into the trashcan, when his eye fell on one particular piece. A small, round disc.

Dean had seen enough detectives to know that was a bugging device, designed to tap phone calls.

Maybe Sam just wanted all his calls to go through to the system at home, record it all to be sure.

But to have recorded evidence of your incriminating phone calls was probably the stupidest thing to do ever. So no. That wasn’t Sam’s intention, it couldn’t be, the guy was too smart.

It was planted.

Sam was being monitored.

And Dean didn’t doubt for a  _second_  that if that was the case, there had to be more than just that one little bugging device in Sam’s phone.

He suddenly remembered why exactly he’d teamed up with Sam in the first place, and felt like crap. He’d gotten  _way_  too carried away.

Thinking back at the afternoon when he laid in bed that night, Dean remembered Sam’s body language, his expressions, the way he’d thought everything through. If Sam was being controlled, then he was one hell of an actor. Or maybe he’d gotten carried away, like Dean. It was almost too easy to get swept up in all of this. Maybe that’s how Sam got trapped in all of it in the first place. He did one stupid thing, made one stupid mistake, got carried away and when he looked back, he’d found himself irreversibly stuck.

Dean remembered what Sam had told him when he’d entered the Pit for the first time, how he and that woman, Ruby, had gotten high together and had made up the idea together.

He shot up in his bed.

_Fuck._

_Ruby._

Ruby could be his answer. She could have kick-started all this, if that story had been true of course. Maybe she was the original controller of Sam. She got him into it, after all. Dean  _knew_  he couldn’t trust her, he’d fucking guessed it from the start.

And now Dean thought back to how he, Jo, Ellen and Ash had gotten involved too. It had been Ruby’s idea to contact Dean, she’d actually admitted it. So perfectly timed too, they must have been watching him. Using him as a threat to Sam. And then there was the Roadhouse burning down on the very evening Sam was conveniently there to come to their rescue. Yeah, getting your life saved was one way to get guilt-tripped into staying.

Jesus.  _Jesus._  This was big. This was so big, so much bigger than Dean would’ve thought. He wondered who else in the house was tricked into the work, was pressured into staying. He wondered who actually ran the place. Not Ruby, she was just a manipulative little bitch, not much more than a pawn.

He wondered about Castiel. The guy had said he was merely following orders from ‘high up’. He didn’t know much. And something about the type of work, the orders he had to be receiving, just didn’t scream  _Sam_ , not at all. Sure, Cas’ job made sense, but it was too cold, too clinical, even for this new Sam. Whoever was giving Cas orders could be another answer. Dean had to figure that out too.

And he wondered how the  _fuck_  he could ever save his brother from something as big as this. He might not be able to. He might be stuck in this for the rest of his life, a life that might just turn out to be a lot shorter than he’d hoped. He was about to get bulldozed by a Polish-Alaskan drug dealer. And he kind of didn’t want to.

For the first time, he allowed himself to acknowledge that all he wanted right now was to go back to the mansion and find Cas, let the man bury himself inside of him, make him scream until he forgot his own name.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slight hiatus! I can't promise any regular updates anytime soon though, sorry. You'd be surprised how busy I am in my holidays. To make up for it though, have a nice and long chapter, and some smut. **ALSO, for those who wanted to read Sabriel anytime soon:** sorry. There were some things that were going to happen at the end of this fic, where we would get Sabriel. But then this fic got a bit longer than I'd imagined, and I think that whole bit where Sabriel will happen will be bigger than I'd intended too, and it just felt more natural to split the fic up. So the part of the story where Sabriel will happen will be in a sequel. So, bad news: no Sabriel. Good news: this fic will get a sequel! It won't be as long as this fic at all, but hey, sequel, yay! Anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy ;)

Dean felt nervous.

They’d arrived back at the mansion late the previous evening, but as soon as his head had hit the pillow, images of the Roadhouse burning down had filled Dean’s mind, his imagination having made Ellen’s and Jo’s screams sound all too real.

So here he was, in the kitchen, wearing a tailored three-piece suit, but other than that looking absolutely terrible; he had a light stubble, his hair was a mess, his face grey with exhaustion. The party would start in twenty minutes, and he was drinking his third cup of coffee, anything to become more awake. He couldn’t afford being sleepy, not today, not at this party. He needed to be aware of everything around him.

Ellen gave his shoulder a slight squeeze, and he placed his own hand over hers, trying to find some comfort in it. She didn’t know the real reason for his compulsive coffee-drinking right now, but she was probably guessing that it was because this was Dean’s first formal party where he had to look important, and Dean wasn’t going to tell her any different.

Probably because that was part of the nerves too.

The door opened, and Sam’s head appeared in the opening. “Dean? I need you now. People are starting to show up, and you’re going to have to entertain them just as much as I do.”

Dean let out a sigh and stood up. “You’ll be fine, honey,” Ellen told him, and he gave her a little smile and a peck on the cheek.

“Yeah. You know me, Ellen. Always land on my feet.” He gave her a wink that felt a bit more feeble than he’d intended, then followed his younger brother out of the kitchen.

~666~

_ So. Many. People. _

There had to be over a hundred men and women there, all dressed smartly. Dean watched his little brother from the corner of his eye, who was standing next to him, addressing the crowd, one arm draped casually around Ruby’s waist. The woman was smiling, and Dean had to refrain himself from punching that smile off her face.

He wasn’t really listening to whatever Sam had to say. He gave a curt little nod every time he heard his name, but other than that it wasn’t really all that important. Maybe it was if he wanted to be Sam’s right-hand man. But the goal here was to spot the ones in charge, not play Mafia house.

Except he had no idea where to look. There were just all these faces, all looking at Sam as the guy kept talking, and Dean had nothing to go on. He spotted Arbauld and his aunt, and he saw Zachariah, Michael and Crowley standing in the crowd as well, but other than that he had no clue. He just relied on Sam to introduce him to their nudger.

After the main speech came the mingling, and this time Dean made sure to keep his glass far away from Ruby. She was  _not_  going to spike him again. Soft background music started playing while people started talking, and Dean followed Sam as they walked through the crowd, addressing people every now and then and answering questions when asked.

When they arrived at the Arbaulds, Sam and Edward actually shook hands as if they were long-lost friends, their grip tight in that enthusiastic way.

“Sam! I’m glad to see you,” Edward pretty much bellowed with a wide smile. “That was an excellent speech, if I must say. Are you sure you’re not working for any pharmaceuticals?”

Sam laughed as if it was an old inside joke they had exchanged many times, even though Dean was fairly sure the two had only met once, last week. “I don’t think my company would manage to stay operational that long if I was official pharmaceuticals, Edward,” he replied. “The authorities would be all over my ass within days.”

“Nonsense!” Edward slapped him on the back, and Dean just watched the exchange with confusion. Beth seemed pretty cool with it all, though. She was probably used to it all.

“You play the game too well, Sam,” the older man spoke with a grin. “And with killer lawyers like Michael Milton by your side, I doubt your ship will ever sink.”

“Well, a ship relies on its crew as much as its captain to keep it sailing,” Sam retorted. And that caught Dean’s attention. What was that supposed to mean, exactly? It didn’t sound like it was meant for Edward.

“Let’s hope then that this ship’s crew is as formidable as its captain,” the older man replied gravely before changing his demeanour again. “Now, Sam, have you thought about my offer?”

Sam nodded. “I have, Edward. I’d like to discuss everything after the party, if you don’t mind. I’ll gladly offer you and Beth a bed for the night if necessary.”

Edward smiled and slapped Sam on the back again. “I think we’ll gladly accept your hospitality. Beth?”

Beth smiled as well and nodded. “Yes, please. If it is all the same to you though, Mr. Winchester, could someone show me my room right now? I’d like to take a nap first, otherwise I fear I will be of little use during our discussions later this evening.”

“Certainly,” Sam said. “Jo,” he called out, and Dean jumped a little. He hadn’t noticed that she was walking through the crowd as well, a tray with champagne flutes carefully balanced on her hand. “Could you show the good lady her room? And inform Castiel, I’m sure he’d like to know there’s two extra rooms occupied now.” He turned back to Edward and smiled apologetically. “Castiel is our private security, he keeps an eye on the house during and around parties, just to make sure nothing goes missing or people go to areas they’re not supposed to.”

Dean narrowed his eyes a little, but Edward waved it away. “That’s fine, I completely understand. Important documents everywhere, right?” Sam nodded. “Precisely.”

Cas was definitely  _not_  private security, but it was probably Sam’s most polite way of explaining that the guy would keep an eye on Beth and make sure she wouldn’t go snooping. But this was good for Dean. Now he knew where he would be able to find Cas later tonight.

Great. Another thing to add to his nerves.

Oh, and it seemed like there was food stuck in his teeth. That was just fan-fucking-tastic.

As they walked away, Sam’s expression flickered. Dean could see that he was trying to stay professional, but behind the mask there was a bitch-face lurking. “Dean, are you chewing gum?” he asked in a low tone.

“Jeez, Sam, how stupid do you think I am?” Dean bit back, but before he could explain about the piece of whatever that seemed to be stuck in the dip of his molar, Sam’s expression shifted again to a radiant smile.

“Lilith!” he exclaimed, his arms wide in invitation. He then leaned in and placed a light kiss on the blond woman’s cheek. “This is my brother, Dean. Dean, meet our nudger.” Dean’s eyes widened a little before he gave her a little nod and a smirk. “Pleasure,” he nearly purred as he took her hand and placed a feather-light kiss on it.

So. Lilith. He let his gaze run over her. She seemed pretty young, but then again, Sam was pretty young too, so that wasn’t exactly something to consider when trying to calculate someone’s potential and wealth. Her mouth was wide and her eyes were cold and a little far apart, but she was definitely not too bad-looking.

Dean shook his head. That wasn’t what he was here for. He needed to focus.

“So, how did you and Sam meet?”

“I went to school with Ruby, funnily enough,” the woman answered. Damn, she  _sounded_  young too. He had to abandon those initial thoughts where he’d considered her attractive; there was just something about her that Dean found incredibly unsettling.

But this proved it, didn’t it? She and Ruby were in the same league. Which kind of explained why she was so sure that Sam would keep up his end of the bargain. She had him by the balls, through Ruby.

“Come, I’ll show you our progress,” Sam said, snapping Dean from his thoughts. “Ruby can do some crowd-control for a while.”

The three of them walked through the halls, off towards the lab and med-bay, while Sam kept chatting to Lilith about the latest developments. Meanwhile, Dean was wriggling the tip of his tongue against the soft bit of tissue that seemed to be jammed between his molars. “Damn it,” he muttered. It was absolutely maddening.

He didn’t notice Sam and Lilith were staring at him until they had stopped moving. He looked up, and saw the judgment in their gaze. “I have food stuck between my teeth!” he exclaimed. Lilith cast Sam a cold glance.

“You’re going to have to do something about him, Sam. With all the changes…”

“Wait, what did I do wrong?” Dean asked, feeling annoyance rise him. It didn’t seem fair that he would get chastised for something that wasn’t his fault. The woman focused her gaze on him again, and a shiver went down his spine. Yeah. There was definitely something wrong with her.

“Szarek is closing in on you,” she answered. “And Sam told me the two of you want to join him and double-cross Arbauld, which, I have to say, is an incredibly bold move that will have a lot of consequences. Consequences that I don’t think you’re completely aware of, Dean.”

The older Winchester narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh really? Well, enlighten me then.”

“Do you think Szarek is just going to let you stand by the side-line again, Sam?” Lilith asked, her eyes all the while still on Dean. “You’re going double-cross Arbauld. And Szarek will want to know for certain you won’t do the same to him. He’s not going to let you get away with playing the innocent little pharmacist again. No, this time you’re going to have to step up and play with the big boys. You’re going to have to make a stand, Sam. You and Dean both. After all, you run this operation together now. A new family force to reckon with.”

“We’re not going to be a drug cartel,” Sam spoke up, interrupting Lilith. He was clearly not happy with this.

“You’re not going to have a choice, Sam,” Lilith retorted, finally tearing her gaze away from Dean and focusing on the younger man. “Szarek will make you, or he will crush you and take over everything. And it would sadden me if I would have to see you go, Sam, truly. I like you. And Dean too, of course.” She flashed the older brother a smile, but Dean felt no warmth in it.

“But this means you’re going to have to act like it too. Cold, imposing, dominant, ready to defend your territory.  _Picking your teeth does not add to that image._ ” Upon those words, Dean quickly lowered his hand from his mouth again with a scowl.

“Great. So now we have to play the big bad wolf?”

“Not yet,” Lilith replied. “Not until you turn your back on Arbauld. But consider this a timely warning. Image  _will_  matter.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam nodded. “Thank you, Lilith. That’s very good to know. Now, shall we?”

“Hey, Sam, do you mind if I…” Dean pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and Sam sighed. “Fine. The people upstairs have seen you now anyway. Go.”  _Before the guests see a worse image of you than you have shown so far._  He didn’t say it, but Dean could read it in his little brother’s eyes. He rolled his eyes again and gave a little nod. “Thanks, Sammy, you’re a champ.” And with that he quickly left their company, glad to be done with all that bullshit for the night. Façades were definitely more Sam’s thing.

His fingers back in his mouth to try and pull at that bit of tissue all the way at the back of his mouth, he walked up the stairs. He knew exactly where he wanted to be right now; it had been long enough since he’d seen Castiel. The guy could rat on him any day, especially with the big developments of Szarek and Arbauld on their way. He needed to compromise the guy as soon as possible.

As he’d suspected, Castiel was guarding the door behind which Beth Arbauld was sleeping. The older man had heard Dean coming, and had a sharp look in his eye when Dean approached him, ready for anything. When he saw who it was, he gave a sharp nod, not letting his guard down.

“Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean replied, but he didn’t stop. He strode forward until he had the older man pressed up against the wall, crashing their lips together, one hand tangled in the other’s dark hair, his other hand on the knife hidden behind his back in his pants, just in case.

But Castiel barely retaliated. It wasn’t until Dean pulled back that he saw why; the man stared at him incredulously, a light frown on his face.

“I’m guessing no-one ever took the initiative with you,” Dean smirked before delving back in, licking the seam of the other man’s lips, nipping at his mouth. “Come on, Cas, you can relax," he purred. But still Castiel didn’t respond.

Dean pulled back hesitantly. He wasn’t used to this. He had expected feral lust, getting his clothes ripped off, or maybe anger, a fight. Not this.

“Come on, Cas? What’s the matter with you?” he asked, searching the man’s eyes for an answer. But still Castiel merely frowned lightly.

“Dean, I’m on duty,” he responded. “Whatever it is you want right now, I don’t have time for it.”

Dean had to bark out a laugh at that. “Whatever it… Cas, am I really being that unclear with what I want?” The smirk returned, and slowly he invaded the older man’s personal space again, using his height advantage to loom over him, their mouths inches apart.

“Come on, Cas,” he purred, nipping at the man’s lips again. “You know exactly what I want.”

“Dean, no,” Castiel said resolutely, pushing the younger man away. But Dean wasn’t that easily rid of. Within the blink of an eye he’d crowded Cas again, the hand that he wasn’t holding the hilt of his knife with, roaming the man’s clothed chest, then slipping down to cup what was clearly a growing erection in his pants.

“See, you want this too, Cas, don’t deny it,” Dean insisted. But the man’s eyes were hard as steel.

“I said no.” Dean felt himself reeling backwards, hitting the opposite wall hard with a thud that he hoped hadn’t woken anyone. He winced a little as he stepped forward again, rolling his shoulder, which would probably bruise.

“What’s the matter, Cas?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I know you’re growing hard for me down there. I can feel it.” He pressed hip against it now, not too hard, barely giving any pressure or friction, but still he could hear the slightest hitch in Castiel’s breath. A small, triumphant smirk tugged at his lips, which he brushed open-mouthed against Cas’ jaw.

“You used to love this, couldn’t wait to spread me open and fuck me senseless,” he breathed. Looking up from under hooded eyelids, he could see Castiel had closed his eyes, hands balled up by his sides, shaking from how tense he’d clenched his fists, a tiny snarl tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dean pressed a fleeting kiss against it.

“Don’t you miss me? I know I miss you.”

Castiel opened his eyes, and this time it was Dean’s breath that hitched. The look on the older man’s face was hard enough to cut diamonds.

“This will  _not_  happen,” he snarled, bringing up his hand to do something, Dean wasn’t sure what – press him away again, slap him, punch him, choke him, it was all possible. He didn’t get the chance though, because Dean was faster, pinning Castiel’s wrist above his head.

“I took a little combat training,” he explained with a cocky smile. “Polished up my reflexes. Aren’t you proud of me?”

Castiel’s other fist went flying then, hitting Dean hard against his temple and sending lightning flashes of pain shooting through his skull.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” the Winchester growled, now pinning both Castiel’s wrists above his head. The man was snarling and spitting against his grip, but Castiel wasn’t built for heavy man-to-man combat, most of his experience in quick, silent assassinations.

“What are you afraid of, Cas,” Dean panted, rutting his hips, pressing his own straining bulge against Castiel’s. Both of them gasped, and it sent another sharp pain through Dean’s skull.

“You afraid you actually want it too much?” he continued. “You afraid I’ll make you lose it? Come on, Cas, what are you afraid of!?”

But the man didn’t respond. Instead, he suddenly went still under Dean’s grip, his gaze calculating.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

_ Oh fuck. _

Dean had to think quick. If the guy understood that Dean was trying to compromise him, that there was a higher purpose to this, he’d rat on him. He had to know of the bugged house – all he had to do was say it out loud, right here, right now. And Dean would be seriously fucked.

“I’m clean, Cas,” he replied.  _Improvise, Winchester. Get that brain of yours to work._

“I can see that,” Castiel retorted. “So where is this coming from?”

_ Quick thinking, quick thinking! _

“Sam wants me clean. But I miss it.” And  _fuck_ , because that hit a little closer to home than he’d intended. But he couldn’t take it back now.

“I’m not going back to Sue. I can’t afford to do that to myself again. But you…” He managed to smirk again, even though on the inside, Dean was shaking.

“You’re better than Sue. You’re better than any drug. And you’re a hell of a lot better for my physical health too.”

A leg hooked around Dean’s, pulling him in closer. Now they both couldn’t escape. Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“What do you want, Dean?”

_Fuck._

“You. Just you.”

Dean crashed their mouths together again, and this time Cas opened his mouth, their tongues touching and sending that familiar electricity sparking through Dean’s entire body, straight to his cock, and he let out a soft groan. He  _had_  missed this. God, he’d missed this so much, a  _burning_  ache that he hadn’t truly noticed was there until now.

“Come on, Cas,” he breathed against the older man’s slack mouth. “Let go for me.”

There were hands in his hair all of a sudden, yanking his head back hard, and his heart nearly stopped as his eyes shot open and met that piercing blue.  _Fuck_ , he hadn’t noticed letting go of Castiel’s wrists. Time seemed to stop around them for an eternity of a second as he waited for what would happen next – sex or murder. He wasn’t sure what would make his heart beat faster.

“I remember you begging so prettily,” Castiel then finally said lowly, and Dean’s chest actually ached with relief. Begging. He could do that.

“Please, Cas,” he breathed. “ _Please._  Please let me have this. Let go. For me.  _Please!_ ”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth curled up the tiniest bit, and it was the hottest thing Dean had ever seen in his life.

“ _Good_ ,” the man whispered.

Dean fucking  _went to town_.

He surged forward, tangling his fingers in that dark goddamn sex hair, thrusting his tongue into Cas’ mouth, nipping at his lips, rutting their hips together. Both of them let out sounds that were closer to snarls than groans as they pushed and pulled, as Cas turned them around and slammed Dean against the wall, the younger man’s shoulder complaining, but he ignored it, instead somehow managing to switch them again and pressing Cas back against the wall. He yanked the man’s head back by his hair, his mouth ravaging the column of Castiel’s bared throat, scraping against dark stubble. He roamed lower and lower, managing to bring out words that resembled something in the shape of “ _Missed this so much, Cas, missed you so fucking much, gonna make you feel so good, let go for me,_ ” until he was on his knees and his hands were busy undoing Castiel’s fly.

The last time Dean had seen Cas’ cock he’d been drugged up, but now he saw it just as it was – standing up hard and proud, cut, dark with blood, and fucking  _big_. That had actually fit in Dean’s ass? But he tried not to think about that. Instead, he let his tongue lick a small stripe up the mushroom-shaped head, earning himself a groan and a hand fisted in his hair, tilting his face up to meet Castiel’s darkened gaze.

“How many men have you sucked off, Dean?” the older man asked, his voice soft but demanding.

“Seven,” Dean answered honestly, and swallowed, licking his lips nervously. No matter how dominant he started out, Castiel always knew how to make him feel small again. And if he was being honest, he didn’t entirely mind that.

“So I will be number eight?”

“Yeah,” he managed to bring out.

“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel spoke softly. “Did any of those previous men tell you how fucking beautiful you look on your knees like this? How perfect your mouth looks right now?”

Dean shuddered at that. They had, and he couldn’t lie, not to Cas, not now anyway, so he nodded. “But it was nothing like this, nothing like you,” he added. And he meant it. The grip in his hair tightened painfully, and he let out a gasp.

“You have  _no idea_  how hard it is for me to control myself right now,” the older man managed to spit out through gritted teeth.

“Then don’t,” Dean retorted, looking up from under hooded eyelids. He leaned in, despite the pull on his hair making his eyes water, and placed a feather-light kiss at the base of Cas’ cock, where it sat snugly in dark curls of hair. “Let go. Please, Cas. For me.”

Again Dean’s head was yanked back, but this time, the man above him guided him to the head of his cock. A second hand snaked forward, cupping his jaw, Castiel’s thumb pressing softly but insistently against his lips.

“Open wide for me, Dean,” the man urged.

For a second, Dean froze, an old nightmare reawakened, Meg and Ruby looming over him with barbed needles, Castiel’s eyes burning bright blue, those same words spilling from the man’s lips. But then Dean was back in the present, and the pressure on his jaw was nowhere near as strong as it had been in the dream, just enough to be on the far edge of coaxing. Dean looked up again, seeing those normal yet extraordinary eyes, slightly feverish but at least not crackling with electricity. And he let his jaw fall slack.

Castiel let out a soft groan at the sight, and stroked Dean’s jaw a few more times, calming him with the little gesture. Then, he pressed in.

It had been a while since Dean had had a cock in his mouth, but he quickly found it was just like riding a bike. The fat, velvet shape of it, the heat, the musky scent and the slightly bitter-salty taste were all familiar, and soon he was bobbing his head up and down, guided by Cas’ hand in his hair, licking, sucking, slurping and moaning like a professional whore. If the sounds the man above him made were anything to go by, he definitely hadn’t lost his touch.

And he certainly hadn’t lost his appetite for it either.

It really was a shame it had been so long since his last blowjob.

He could feel the man’s cock twitch on his tongue warningly before he was pulled off roughly and Castiel blew his load all over Dean’s face. Streaks of jizz were stretching thin between his eyelashes and his cheekbones, dripping from his upper lip onto his tongue, painting the line of his jaw. He looked up, finding Castiel slightly out of breath, looking down on him with something almost feral in his eyes. And Dean couldn’t blame him. He knew more or less what he looked like right now; freckles covered in white stripes of sticky spunk, green-gold eyes with long lashes looking up so innocently, plump lips parted slightly. Pretty, and marked as Castiel’s.

He got up from his kneeling position on the floor and pressed his mouth against Cas’, sharing that taste,  _Cas’_  taste. The older man pressed the palm of his hand against Dean’s crotch, and within seconds Dean came too, in his pants and embarrassingly fast, but seeing stars from it, so he wasn’t going to give a damn. It’d finally been the hit he’d been craving.

He lazily licked into Cas’ mouth a little longer before pulling back and collapsing against the wall, panting from the exertion.

Looking up at Cas, he could see how fucked out the man looked, how satisfied. Mission accomplished then. He’d managed to make Cas lose control, made him want Dean. He’d emotionally compromised the guy.

Sitting on the floor, feeling utterly fucked out and satiated himself as well from merely sucking a cock before blowing his wad in his pants with merely a little bit of friction, Dean could also see how fucked he was himself. A round of applause for Dean Winchester. Who had also succeeded in emotionally compromising himself in the process.

It had better be fucking worth it.

“Did I bite you?”

Dean frowned as he looked up at Cas again. “No, I don’t think so…” He let his tongue run against his lips. Nope, no sting, nothing. He shook his head. “Did  _I_  bite you?”

Castiel shook his head as well, inspecting his now flaccid cock before tucking it away, a grimace flickering across his face as he felt the spit dry and cool his skin.

“Why do you ask, then?”

The look Castiel sent him next was… odd. Worried, almost. And that was just  _wrong_.

“You tasted like blood,” he answered.

For a moment, Dean’s heart seemed to stop. But then, tantalisingly, he lifted his hand to his mouth, a suspicion sneaking up on him. He pressed in a finger, and searched for the piece of tissue that had been stuck between his teeth.

It was gone. Instead, he felt a small sting as he pressed the tip of his finger against the edge of his tooth. When he pulled back, his finger was covered in a small amount of blood.

“Oh,” he breathed out.

Maybe he should go and look for Meg.

Though he should probably wash the spunk off his face first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Arbauld is the last name of a character from my French textbook in high school. Szarek is the last name of a Polish classmate of mine.
> 
> Also: OMG OVER 50 SUBSCRIBERS TO THIS STORY!!! I love each and every single one of you :')


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another slight hiatus, I went on holiday without my laptop for two weeks (and it was hell... Nah I'm kidding, my writing withdrawal symptoms were not too bad). But here's the next chapter, and damn these things just keep getting longer! Hope you like it :)
> 
> Oh! Also, I have art that goes with this work now!!! :D Please check out this beautiful person's amazing piece of work, which I reblogged ([link](http://ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com/post/122718654036/a-quick-commission)). Drop him some likes, reblogs, or even a few words of appreciation, he totally deserves it!!

“I am  _not_  sticking my hand in that mouth.”

“Excuse me?” Dean shot the nurse an incredulous look.

“Well I don’t know if you’re aware of it, Cupcake, but your breath smells of cock,” Meg drawled, her brow furrowing in mild disgust. “You brush your teeth, then we’ll talk.”

They were sitting in the lab, and Kevin was very decidedly  _not_  looking up from his work.

“But I don’t know if it’ll wash away whatever is wrong!” Dean protested, causing the nurse to sigh and roll her eyes.

“You just want to see me grossed out, don’t you? You know what, fine. Open that pretty mouth of yours. Just remember that I’m not a dentist.”

Dean opened his mouth, and immediately Meg pushed gloved fingers inside to poke and prod at his gums, making him wince. He almost felt tempted to bite down, but decided against it. Gangster boss biting his nurse; that would be a story to go down well with the crowd.

Meg eventually pulled back with a frown. “I need you to drop your pants.”

“What the hell does that have to do with my teeth!?”

“Just drop your pants, Dean. Not your tighty-whities, just the pants, thank you.”

Dean followed her order with a bit of grumbling. He could hear Kevin snigger, and pointed a finger at the boy. “ _You_ ,” he growled, “not a  _word_  of what happened here.”

“Don’t have to tell,” Kevin smirked to his flasks. “Hidden cameras’ll be enough.”

Dean clenched his fists, but let it go.

“Okay,” Meg said as she pulled her face away from his crotch, “how’ve you been feeling lately, Dean?”

“Oh, absolutely peachy,” the Winchester bit back. “Bleeding gums, death threats and snark from a sixteen-year-old. Couldn’t be better.”

“Hey, I’m nineteen!” Kevin protested, and Dean pulled up his eyebrows.

“Nineteen? You’re kidding, right? What the hell are you even doing here?”

“Kevin, could you please leave us for a moment? I’d like some  _privacy_  with my  _patient_ ,” Meg spoke up. The boy sighed, but slid off his stool and left the room.

“So, what’s up, doc?” Dean quipped. Meg quirked an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment.

“Has Ellen been feeding you enough fruit?”

“Been eating a grapefruit for breakfast every day, yeah,” Dean answered, frowning. “What’s this about?”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Cupcake, but you have scurvy.”

Dean was completely silent for a moment as the words sank in.

“You mean the pirate disease?”

“It’s a vitamin C deficiency, Dean,” Meg replied, rolling her eyes. “A piece of your gum came off, and the rest of your mouth is not in the best state either. That on top of the spots on your legs, even though they’re pretty light still, the pale skin and feeling crappy? Yeah. Scurvy.”

“Wait, hold on just a sec,” Dean interrupted. “I just told you I eat vitamin C all the time.”

“Which means your body is not taking it in properly,” the nurse replied. “It’s a side-effect of Sue, and it’s fixable. I’ll get Kevin to whip you up some pills. Just drink an extra glass of lemon juice each day for the next week or so and you’ll be fine. For now I just need to suture your gums.”

Dean shot her another incredulous look. “Are you even qualified to suture gums? I mean, don’t I need a proper dentist for that?”

Meg scoffed at that. “Technically, no, I’m not fully 100% qualified. But it’s like two stitches. That, or ask Crowley, he did an online course. Sorry,  _speed_  course. So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled in response, immediately receiving a stab in the jaw with a needle for it. “Hey!”

“Oh come on, it’s a local anaesthetic,” Meg muttered annoyed. “Open up.”

With slight hesitance Dean did as she asked, but he was definitely not feeling too happy about it. She stuck her fingers in his mouth once again, this time with needle and suturing thread. It stung a little, but that was it. Once she pulled out again, he smacked his lips distastefully a few times, tasting the blood this time. He poked his tongue at it and winced; the local anaesthetic didn’t take away all feeling entirely.

But Meg didn’t even comment on his stupidity. She just looked… unsettled? Something was clearly wrong, but she was trying to hide it, so Dean wouldn’t ask, not with everything being bugged.

“Right, well, that’s that then,” she said. “Now please leave, I still have work to do. Kevin’ll have the pills ready tomorrow evening.”

She turned around and started rummaging some papers, indicating for Dean he could go. He didn’t, though.

“Is that it? No witty remarks?”

“Just get out, Dean.” She didn’t turn back around, but her voice sounded tired. “Find your little boy-toy. Oh, and tell him to go fuck himself.”

Dean frowned. Something had definitely happened here, something Meg couldn’t talk about. He walked over to her, but she turned away even further. So he picked up a pen and tapped it lightly on the paper she was reading as he spoke. “You should get some fresh air, Meg. It’ll do you good.”  _Tap._  “Eat your lunch outside tomorrow, maybe?”  _Tap._  “The grounds are pretty nice around this time of year.”  _Tap. Tap._

And if he had tapped under certain letters, well, then that was up to Meg to figure out, right?

He put the pen down again and patted her on her arm. “Thanks for the help, Meg. See you for the next check-up.” And with that, he finally left her to go to bed.

~666~

“Wow. Tree, huh?”

Dean looked up from his spot on the ground, leaning against the bark of the willow. “I hoped it wasn’t too vague. This is one of the few places that isn’t bugged though, according to Charlie.” The nurse sat down next to him, the natural curtain of branches swaying closed behind her. “Didn’t even think you’d show.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to,” she replied. “But then I thought, nothing to lose.”

Dean sat up a bit straighter at that, casting the nurse a sideways glance. He wasn’t exactly sure how things were at the moment between himself and the nurse, but he had to ask. “Meg… What happened?”

She sighed. “Castiel,” she then spat after a short silence. She looked up at Dean, a strange feverish gaze in her eyes. “I really hope you’re not getting attached to the guy, because you can’t trust him for a single second.”

“Wait, what? What did he do?”

Meg let out a laugh that was closer to a sob. “He got me to talk, Dean. He provoked me. I said things, things a traitor says. And it got caught on camera, so, that’s the end of me.”

Dean’s thoughts were reeling. “Cas did that? Really? What did you say? What did he say? How do you know you’re…”

“I told him we were both stuck in this house, well, in this business anyway,” she replied, staring ahead. “I told him never to trust his superiors. Which is you and Sam, by the way, and I realise that, but since I’m a goner anyway, I guess I can say anything I want to the two of you now.”

“But what did Cas say?” Dean urged, to which the nurse let out another of those mirthless laughs.

“Of course. Who cares about Meg anyway, right? She’s not important at all. We want to know about the boyfriend.” She sniffed. “I told him they might try to get rid of him too now that I’d made him question his superiors. He said he didn’t question them at all, and then told me the house was bugged. That he was  _sorry_. That he’d been rather fond of me.” She spat out the words, and Dean almost felt the urge to comfort her. Almost.

“Maybe he actually was sorry,” the Winchester said softly. “Maybe he really hadn’t meant for that to happen.”

“You’d like to believe that, don’t you?” Meg snorted. “No, Dean. He’s a lying, manipulative bastard, and you can’t trust him.”

Dean thought back at the time he’d actually  _talked_  to Cas, that moment in the cabin, where he found out that the man didn’t know anything. He didn’t know where his orders came from. Dean remembered telling him that one day he’d start doubting.

And he thought back to earlier that night, to the look on Cas’ face, the look in the guy’s eyes when Dean just pushed and pushed.

And he remembered  _something_ , a flicker of some form of emotion beyond that stony expression.

But now that Meg was talking to him, telling him what had happened, he wasn’t sure anymore. Wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, seeing things that weren’t there, remembering fake memories.

Why was he putting so much trust into that man anyway? He had no ties to him, none whatsoever. He’d been abused by the guy, and now Castiel was his new drug. That was it.

That, or he was developing Stockholm Syndrome. God forbid.

“Hold on,” he suddenly spoke, something dawning on him. “When did this conversation take place?”

“Few weeks ago,” the nurse replied, turning to look at him a little better. “Why?”

“You’re still here. Why d’you think that is?”

Meg shrugged at that. “I don’t know. You can ask Sam, though. The tension’s getting really boring now.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

He sank back into his thoughts, and a silence settled between them.

“Hey, Meg?” he finally said.

“What?”

“I think I might be able to save you.”

This made the nurse laugh again, dark and humourless. “Oh really? Pray tell. How are you going to  _save_  me?”

“Sammy’s my little brother,” he replied, ignoring the jab at him. “I’d be a shit brother if I couldn’t do a little emotional manipulating.”

Meg raised her eyebrows at that. “You really think Sam’s gonna order the hit on me?”

“Hmm…” Dean dug his teeth into his lip absentmindedly. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like Sam’s got full autonomy, you know? Something tells me Lilith is behind this. But whoever is ordering the hit, my best guess is Cas’ll be the one to carry it out. And I think I might be able to do some manipulating there too. I’m gonna make Sam aware of your worth here, Meg, don’t worry. I’m not gonna let this slide. Meg?”

The nurse had been completely silent for the past thirty seconds, and it was worrying Dean.

“Meg?”

“Lilith who?”

“I don’t know, never got her last name. She’s our main sponsor, though.”

Again Meg stayed silent.

“Meg, if you know anything about her, tell me,” Dean urged. Something was up; the nurse knew something, and Dean had to know what it was. But she shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you. Not here.”

“But this place isn’t bugged!”

“Keep your voice down!” she hissed, and Dean quickly shut up.

“I don’t trust that, Dean,” Meg whispered. “I can’t know for sure that we’re not being monitored here. I don’t even know if I can trust  _you_.” She swallowed. “Not after what Clarence pulled on me.”

She quickly stood up, and Dean followed suit. He couldn’t let her go, he needed to know this right now.

“I’m sorry, Dean. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Meg. Meg!”

But she ignored him, instead walking off hurriedly, back towards the house, leaving Dean feeling pretty much ready to shoot himself. This was not how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go  _at all_. But then again, when was the last time things actually went according to plan? Oh yeah, when he tried to escape. And he nearly ended up dead that time, so.

Right, so what had he learned from this? That there were trust issues everywhere, that Meg was potentially on death row, and that Lilith wasn’t to be trusted. What a surprise.

Well. He could do one thing at least: go to Sam and talk to him about Meg. He and the nurse might not have always seen eye to eye, but he didn’t want her dead. She felt like an ally, especially after what she had just told him. She was just as reluctant about being here as he was. Okay, maybe a little less, but still.

He checked his watch. Two-thirty; he could go to Sam and pick up his medicine from Kevin afterwards, and he might even be in time to join Ellen and Jo for dinner. Maybe Sam would even be there to join them for once.

_Yay._

~666~

He found Sam in his study, of course. The guy was staring at a map of the northern border of the US, a red line showing Szarek’s progress. Dean frowned at it. It seemed that at this rate, Szarek would reach Arbauld’s place in about a week.

“One week, then, huh?” Dean spoke up, drawing his brother’s attention.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, straightening himself. “Edward seems unsuspecting so far. I talked to him and Beth last night. It would have been better if you’d have been there too, Dean.”

Dean pulled a face. He’d kind of forgotten about that. Oh well, too late now. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was kind of exhausted.”

Sam’s expression seemed a suspicious amount like the guy knew exactly what had exhausted Dean so much, but he didn’t comment on it, thankfully.

“What are you here for, Dean?”

“What, I can’t make a social call?”

“Dean.”

“Fine.” He walked over to lean against Sam’s desk. “I wanna talk to you about Meg.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She seems to be of the impression that she’s on a death list. You know anything about that?”

The younger man sighed at that. “Look, Dean…”

“No, I don’t want any excuses,” Dean interrupted his brother. “I know how tight the security is in this house, I know what she said to Cas and what he said to her. What I  _don’t_  know is why nothing has been done yet. So I wanna know.”

Sam scoffed. “You know, I don’t know whether you want her dealt with now or if you actually like her.”

“Neither,” Dean quickly replied. “I just… It’s ridiculous that you’d let that swing over her head, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam raised his eyebrows again, and it surprised Dean how intimidating that actually was.

“You know the things she said. You think she doesn’t deserve a little stewing in her own juices?” Dean pulled another face at that choice of words, but Sam ignored him. “I can’t have mutiny, Dean.”

“So  _are_  you going to get rid of her eventually? Or are you just giving her a nervous breakdown?”

Sam turned away at that.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Dean resisted the urge to shout  _“Aha!”_

“She’s useful,” Sam continued. “And she knows the ins and outs of the operation perfectly. If I got rid of her, I’d have to find someone new. But Meg is perfect.”

“So what are you still having doubts about then?”

Sam turned around again to face his brother, his expression of stone.

“She knows too much. If she decides to abandon ship, it’ll be too late and my operation is blown.  _Our_  operation. It’s a risk I can’t take.” He sighed, then turned back to the map, falling silent as he stared at it for a moment.

“What do you think?”

_ Oh fuck. _  Dean felt his palms starting to sweat. This was not meant to happen, this was  _so_  not meant to happen.

“About…”

“What should I do about Meg,” Sam asked him calmly. He seemed genuinely curious.

Dean had absolutely no fucking clue.

If he told Sam to keep Meg alive, there’d be all kinds of consequences he couldn’t even  _begin_  to map out right now. It would be suspicious at least, and Meg… He told her he might be able to save her. But he couldn’t risk his own hide for her. Sam was the priority, and if Dean was gone, he couldn’t keep an eye on Sam either. But if he told Sam to kill her, he’d lose an ally (sort of) and a possible important source of information.

“I don’t know either,” he answered instead.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I’d figured as much.” He looked at the map again. “There’s too much going on at the moment,” he said. “I can’t risk anything.” Then he bit his lip. “But still…  _Damnit!_ ” He took a paperweight and hurled it against the wall, where it cracked the old stone, then fell to the ground and split in half. Dean barely flinched.

“Okay, look, I’m going to keep thinking about this,” the younger Winchester finally said after a minute of trying to get his breath level again. “You’ll hear from me when I decide what to do.”

Dean nodded. That seemed reasonable enough. He hated this situation, he really did. But it wasn’t as if he could exactly do much else.

“Okay, well, see you ‘round then, Sammy. You gonna be there for dinner?”

Sam shook his head. Figured. The guy had a map to stare at, after all.

Now Dean just needed to get his meds from Kevin and then he was done for the day. He mulled over his thoughts as he walked along the corridor to the lab. Who knew running a drug business along with your little brother could be so… uneventful? Well, it was eventful, definitely, but when it came to how he spent his days, he had in all honesty expected to be busier than he was now. The few calls he’d made with Sam were one thing, but somehow he felt like right now he was just a pretty picture next to his little brother, only at the helm of the damn ship that the guy kept referencing to, for appearance’s sake. And he didn’t like it.

Dean was meant to be in the field, do some action. He felt the itch for it. But instead he was stuck here strategizing.

And  _damn it_ , his mind was wondering off his real objective again. He had to take what Sam gave him and be happy with it. Anything to keep the kid in sight and be able to find out more.

That was what he told himself anyway. What he  _had_  to keep telling himself.

The moment he approached the lab, someone walked out the door. He felt like hiding around the corner, but he was second in command, damnit, and he was  _not_  going to hide. So instead he straightened his back and stared straight at the guy.

_Zachariah._

What was  _he_  doing here?

Well, Zachariah  _was_  one of the errand runners, so probably…

Except he wasn’t walking out empty-handed, so he hadn’t been there to drop off supplies.

As soon as Zachariah saw Dean coming, he smirked, then quickly pocketed what looked like a small clear bottle of blue pills.

_Huh._

“Hey Kevin,” Dean said as soon as he entered the lab, then quickly did a double-take.

Garth was sitting right there next to the little nerd Asian, cheerfully helping him mix chemicals. The two of them were happily chatting away, and Dean was completely lost. He pointed an accusing finger at the slightly older of the two.

“I thought you didn’t know what was going on here,” he said, getting seriously annoyed at how much he did and didn’t know, and how much information was falsely given to him. But Garth beamed.

“What are you talking about, Dean? Of course I know! I mean, come on, an internship with pharmaceuticals is pretty badass. Why would Kevin lie about that? If I were him, I’d be shouting it down all the hallways.”

_Right._  Lies. They were clearly everywhere.

“Eh, yeah,” Dean said, feeling slightly awkward now. How to cover up that one? And he needed to cover it up fast, because Kevin was glaring daggers at him. Luckily the kid was quicker-minded than him.

“What he means, Garth, is that it’s not exactly supposed to be common knowledge,” he spoke up instead of Dean. My position at Niveus isn’t guaranteed yet, remember? Could you hand me the sulphuric acid, please?”

Garth handed over a big bottle of thick brown glass that Dean recognised from the few chemistry classes he attended in high school. “Wait, wait,” he said. “What makes him qualified to help you with such a  _prestigious project_?”

Once again, Garth beamed. Dean was honestly completely lost on how to feel about either of the guys sitting at the lab table; endeared or annoyed, or perhaps even pitying.

“I’m a qualified dentist, Dean,” the guy replied. “I’ve had to do some advanced chemistry in college.”

_ Qualified dentist. _

“Here’s the pills Meg prescribed you, Dean,” Kevin said, unaware of Dean’s sudden frozen state. “Take them twice a day, one when you get up and one before dinner.” He held up a small bottle. Dean “didn’t even look at it as he took it.

“Yeah, thanks, Kev. Good luck with the… the thing. Garth.”

He nodded to both the men before leaving the lab again, hearing them starting to chat before closing the door behind them. He was barely aware of his surroundings as he walked back to his room.

_ Qualified dentist. _  So why did Meg necessarily have to suture it? Why wouldn’t she let anyone else do it? She lied about anyone else being qualified, so she was clearly determined in doing it herself. What else had she lied about?

When Dean finally arrived in his room, he quickly locked the door behind him. As he slipped out of his clothes to put something on for bed, he stole furtive glances at his legs, afraid to properly examine them because of the cameras. In the scarce light of his bedroom he saw nothing though. They were normal legs. No spots.

Which meant that Dean didn’t have scurvy.

He should’ve seen that sooner. Only the back of his gums had been bleeding after all.

_ So what the hell was up with his teeth? _

But the pills… Maybe they were sugar pills. That should show up on camera records, whether Kevin actually made some elaborate pills or simply placebos. But it might be too suspicious if Dean would ask to watch that footage…

He checked the bottle.

Clear glass. Blue pills.

Exactly the same as Zachariah’s.

There was no way in  _hell_  he was going to take these.

But he was being watched. Every one of his moves was being recorded. So he couldn’t just dump them.

He swallowed as he looked at the bottle, feeling its weight in his palm, the cool glass against his shaking hand.

He couldn’t just dump the pills.

_ God _ , he’d sworn he was done with drugs. What if this was something like that again? Sue, but in a new package? And he was secretly being used as a test subject again?

But being Sam’s right hand was supposed to protect him from that. And Kevin wouldn’t do that to him. Would he?

Guess there was only one way to find out.

He shook the bottle over his hand, the pills tinkling against the glass until one rolled out onto his palm. He stared at it for a moment, almost feeling as if it was burning a hole in his hand.

Then he tilted his head back, and tossed it into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god Dean always the drugs is it never gonna end?? Tbh though I wasn't sure if I was going to make him pop the blue pills. But I felt like the situation kind of forced him. And I'm a slightly cruel person to written characters...


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, the amount of reactions about Dean taking drugs _again_... I love you all ^^ And I agree, Dean is an idiot. So, anyway, enter this chapter to read the consequences...

When Dean woke up the next morning, he felt… well, he felt okay.

He checked himself out in the mirror to be sure, but overall he seemed fine. More than fine, actually. He felt good. Excited. He was going to  _do_  stuff today, not just sit around and angst.

So he ran down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, where Ellen was already scooping up breakfast for Jo, Garth and Kevin. He gave her a peck on the cheek as he took a plate of fried eggs and bacon from her hands, then sat down to join the others around the table.

“My, what got you in such a good mood today?” Ellen asked. Dean grinned as he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth.

“Meg gave me the good stuff,” he answered, and Ellen harrumphed, but Dean ignored it. Instead he winked at Jo, who blushed and quickly hid her face in her own breakfast.

“Seriously, Ellen, I just needed a vitamin boost.” Well, he still wasn’t sure about that actually, remembering his self-diagnosis from yesterday night, but he  _did_  feel better. So maybe, for once, he was just being paranoid. Maybe Zachariah needed vitamin pills too.

“Glad to know it’s working for you,” Kevin spoke up. Oh yeah, the kid had made the pills with his own hands.

“You’re a genius, Kevin, I mean it,” Dean told him with a nod, and Kevin’s lips twitched into a smile at that.

 “Speaking of nurse Megabitch, though,” Dean spoke around another mouthful of egg, “why isn’t she joining us on this lovely morning?”

Jo barked out a laugh. “Someone forgot to actually look out the window. It’s fucking freezing.”

“That’s not an answer,” Dean retorted, pointing his fork at her accusingly, while Ellen scolded “Language”, to both of which Jo rolled her eyes.

“To be honest, Dean, I have no idea where Meg is,” Garth answered from the other end of the table. He was still in pyjamas, whichin all honesty looked kind of adorable. “I don’t think anyone’s really seen her since yesterday afternoon. Best guess is she’s fallen asleep in the med-bay.”

The door to the kitchen swung open at that moment, and one extremely dishevelled-looking redhead came walking in. “Are we talking about me? Because I’d totally understand it if you guys are talking about me,” she quipped, and Dean laughed.

“Yes, Charlie, we’re talking about you,” he replied. “About how your naps in the med-bay do miracles for your hair.”

“Hey, no fair,” Charlie pouted as she dragged her fingers through her hair. “Just because you’re jealous I have more hair than you doesn’t give you the right to mock my bedhead.”

Dean raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Jealous of your abundance of hair? Please, I’ve seen what long hair does to Winchesters up close on Sam’s head. No thanks.”

The group laughed, and Dean smiled as he attacked his breakfast.

“But seriously though,” he spoke, almost spraying bits of food across the table, “have you seen Meg?”

“Nope,” Charlie answered. “Last time I saw her she went to get lunch yesterday. Left me to clean up the med-bay all by myself.”

“ _All by myself_ ,” Jo started singing. Charlie chucked a piece of egg at her, causing Jo to squeal and duck for cover.

“It’s not funny, Jo! Next time I’m making you help! Seriously, there were like seven bedpans filled with –”

“Wow, too much information!” Dean exclaimed in horror. Garth and Kevin nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Not at the breakfast table, Charlie,” Ellen chastised her, and Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Fine. You guys are weak.”

The whole conversation made Dean think though. If no-one had seen Meg since lunch yesterday, then it was highly possible that he was the last person to have seen her. Unless…

“Excuse me, I need to talk to Sam,” he said as he got up.

“Oh, honey, bring him some breakfast while you’re at it, will you?” Ellen handed him a full plate with extra cherry tomatoes and lettuce on the side. Dean snorted. “Glad to see the Sasquatch still has his old eating patterns.” Ellen smiled, and Dean knew she agreed. At least one thing was still similar.

So it was about half a minute later that Dean knocked on Sam’s door, then immediately waltzed in.

“Hiya, Sammy,” he drawled as he put the plate down on his brother’s desk. Sam nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion, and proceeded to scowl at him while covering the end of his phone with his hand.

“You aware your head nurse is missing?” Dean asked. “I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with you, though.”

“Just a moment,” the younger Winchester muttered into the phone before putting it down on the desk. Then he straightened his back and looked up at his older brother.

“Dean,” he said coldly, “I’d appreciate it if you’d actually  _wait for me to tell you to enter_  next time.”

Dean grinned just as coldly. “Where would be the fun in that?” Then he placed his hands on the desk and leaned in until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Sam. “Now.  _Are you aware your nurse is missing?_ ”

Sam didn’t break eye contact, holding the hard stare for a few seconds before picking up the phone again. “I need you to do this ASAP,” he said, all the while still looking Dean straight in the eye. “I can’t have her running around, potentially spilling secrets.  _Get her back._  If you can’t, you know what to do.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, but Sam just hung up and leaned back. “Does that answer your question?”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Castiel,” Sam answered calmly. Now both Dean’s eyebrows were raised.

“And since when does he actually work for you? Us, I mean? I remember him saying once that he was an independent entrepreneur. He said to me he didn’t follow your orders.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up, but there was nothing warm in his eyes. “Funny thing, that,” he answered. “He seems to have changed his mind. Around the time you started taking Sue, in fact, if I remember clearly.”

Dean had to bite his lip to hold back any replies. That actually  _was_  a funny thing. Maybe Cas was ruined from the moment they met. Not that it was important. Right now he had other things to worry about.

“Right,” he finally said. “Where is he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I wanna join him.”

This actually seemed to surprise Sam. The younger man leaned back in his chair a little, eyebrows raised. “You wanna what now?”

“I’m bored, Sam,” Dean complained. “The whole politics and paperwork, that’s your area. I need to  _do_  something, you know? I can’t just sit on my ass all day.” That, and he wanted to find Meg, talk to her at wherever she was, where they probably wouldn’t be bugged. She had some explaining to do.

The fact that Dean would get to see Castiel in action totally had nothing to do with it.

Alright, maybe just a little.

“Look,” Dean sighed, “just tell me where he is. If you don’t, someone else will.”

Sam held his gaze for a while before eventually seeming to deflate a little. “Camera room,” he replied. “In the basement. First door on the left behind the Pit.”

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Right before Dean left, his brother spoke up again.

“Dean…”

The older Winchester turned around, then found himself a little taken aback with the look in Sam’s eyes. It was sharp, a little intense, and almost… worried? It was more emotion than the guy had shown in months, apart from that one hug they’d exchanged when Dean had returned from his escape attempt.

“Sam?”

“Don’t…” The younger Winchester sighed. “Don’t get too…  _attached_  to Castiel. He’s very independent.”

But Sam’s expression screamed something else. It begged Dean,  _please, please don’t get attached to him. Don’t trust him_. So Dean swallowed and nodded.

“Okay, Sammy,” he replied. “No attachments.”

Sam didn’t seem convinced, but it was the best Dean could do. So he finally left Sam’s office, and headed for the basement.

When he entered the camera room, he was rendered speechless.

This was the room he’d imagined once Sam would be sitting in with a cat on his lap. Except it was different, of course. For example, it didn’t have shiny metal walls like an evil lair would have. Instead there was soundproof panelling all around him, grey-brown foam in little triangles covering the walls to insulate any form of sound. Not that it was  _that_  necessary, since every screen was put on mute, but still.

And then there were the screens themselves.

They were all on one wall, approximately fifteen in length and five rows down if Dean had to guess, so that was, what, seventy-five screens?  _Jesus._  And in front of them was Ash, controlling all those screens with a massive electric board, scrolling through recorded footage on a separate screen while tweaking the settings of the live screens every now and then. Next to him was Castiel, staring intently at the recordings, clearly trying to find something he could use.

Dean’s gaze fell on one of those screens, and his heart stopped.

Charlie’s tree.

“How long has that been there?” he asked hoarsely. Ash turned around while Castiel ignored him, which in all honesty stung a little.

“Since a few days ago,” the other man responded. “Sam saw you sneaking off a little too often in that direction. Sorry, bro.”

Only a few days. So Charlie was safe. Or, well, relatively safe.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Castiel suddenly asked, still facing the screen.

“Oh, look, it speaks,” Dean drawled, and he could see a muscle at the nape of Castiel’s neck twitch, but the man contained himself. Probably because Ash was there.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean added, rolling his eyes. “I’m here to join you. I need to speak to Meg, and, well, if you end up having to kill her, I wouldn’t be able to. So what do you say? Can I come?”

Now Castiel  _did_  turn around, his eyebrows raised. “Are you asking me for permission?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Castiel sighed. “Fine,” he replied. “If you must come, you can.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, and Dean suddenly realised the double meaning. The tips of his ears turned red. “Not what I meant,” he grumbled, and Castiel smirked before turning around again. “I know.”

“So what are you looking for?” Dean asked as he walked over, leaning in too and pressing up ever so slightly against Castiel’s side, who he could feel tensing up just the slightest bit. He smirked.

Castiel didn’t remark on it, though. Instead he directed his attention to the screen in front of them. “Meg went somewhere yesterday,” he answered. “I need to know when she disappeared exactly, and where. Ash never saw anything happen, so we’re going through recordings.”

“Well, as far as I know, I was the last person to see her, and that was around lunchtime,” Dean spoke. “So if Ash never saw anything… What time did you have lunch, Ash?”

The younger man perked up. “Nice! I like your thinking, dude.” He immediately started fiddling with some dials, and this time the image of Meg and Dean under the tree popped up on screen. It was weird to see; they seemed pretty comfortable next to each other, even if Dean never really liked the nurse. He was just happy right now that the image was muted.

“Right, well, I’m guessing we’ve all seen this bit,” he grumbled. “Can we speed forward?”

Ash pressed another button, and within a minute the two figures on screen stood up. “Can you follow Meg?” Castiel asked, and Ash nodded. “No problem, compadres.” Another press of a button later the hallway leading from the backdoor came into view, Meg hurrying down it.

“Do we have any sound?”

 Ash checked, but there was nothing. Meg was silent.

They made sure to switch to the right camera each time she went to another room, following her like that until she went out the front door again. Dean frowned.

“Where’s the next camera?”

“At the front gate,” Ash answered. “If she stuck to a direct route, at least. If she wavered from the path, then there’s some cameras scattered between the trees, which only get triggered by major movements. Small animals don’t set them off. Otherwise that’d be one hell of a waste of batteries.”

“So did any of those get triggered?” Dean asked, getting more agitated by the minute.

“Eh, apparently not,” Ash answered. “Speeding forward through the recordings of the gate…”

Meg never made it there.

“Where did she go?” Dean muttered.

“Either she knows the exact locations of those cameras and managed to avoid all of them,” Ash spoke, “or someone else knew them and took her. And as far as I know, and I know these kinds of things, she did  _not_  know where those cams were.”

Castiel straightened himself up, seemingly about to turn around and leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” Dean quickly asked, stopping the older man in his tracks.

“I’m going to check the wall around the estate for any signs she or someone else was there,” Castiel answered. “Are you coming?”

Dean nodded. “Thanks, Ash.” Ash saluted.

“Anytime, amigo.”

Dean quickly ran after Castiel, who had already walked halfway down the hallway. “Hold up,” he panted as he came up to walk beside the other. “You know what this means, right?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look at Dean. “Enlighten me,” he said as he fastened his pace.

“It’s an insider. Meg can’t have been taken by any rival gangs or neighbours or anything, unless those people were tipped off by someone from inside this house. And only a very select amount of people know the locations of those cameras.”

Castiel’s expression seemed to blank for a moment, and Dean grinned. He was pretty sure he’d just impressed the guy, which was always nice.

“You may have a point,” the older man responded with a flat voice.

“You see why this is relevant, don’t you?”

“If we know who took her, we may be able to narrow down possible locations where she could be taken,” Castiel answered. “I’ve been doing this far longer than you, Dean.”

“Then who do you think took her? Who knows about the locations of those cameras?”

Castiel didn’t reply. Instead, he once again increased his pace a little.

“Cas?”

The older man turned around, and suddenly Dean wished he hadn’t pushed on. Castiel’s expression was thunderous. “Only a handful of people know, Dean,” he replied. “Sam. Ash. Charlie. You.” He stepped a little closer, and Dean gulped, but held his ground. “And me.”

_Ah._  Well that explained the anger.

“You don’t suspect any of us to have taken Meg, do you?”

Dean shook his head. Yesterday he would have suspected Sam, but after this morning, he didn’t anymore. His brother had ordered Castiel to find her, even take her out if necessary. It wouldn’t make sense if either of those two had taken her. And Ash and Charlie, well, he just didn’t see them do any kidnapping.

So who else would do this? Who had the motive?

The timing had been suspicious. Meg had disappeared right after she’d almost spilled secrets to Dean.

Secrets about Lilith.

“Are you sure no-one else knows the location of those cameras?” Dean asked. “Has… has Lilith ever been in that room?” The only way anyone could have known about that moment was through those recordings.

But Castiel shook his head. “She’s never seen that room,” he answered. “We don’t even let her get near it. Sam’s very protective.”

_ Good _ , Dean thought. But it wasn’t good actually. Because it meant they had no suspects.

When they walked through the front doors out onto the lawn, Dean was hit by pretty much a wall of  _cold_. “ _Jesus_ ,” he swore. He was definitely not dressed for this weather, only wearing jeans, a plain shirt and a plaid one over that. Jo had been right. What month was it again?

They walked on to the wall, their breaths forming foggy clouds in the air. It had to be December at least; Dean had lost all track of time since he’d first arrived here. And on top of that was it about twice as cold as yesterday.

As they left the gravel path, the almost frozen grass crunched almost as loudly under their feet. The ground was hard as stone, which wasn’t good; tire tracks would not have been left as easily.

Castiel checked nevertheless. Dean could actually help here; hunting with his dad had taught him to spot broken branches and freshly overturned earth easier. And it was within ten minutes when he spotted something.

“Cas.” He quickly walked over and knelt by the wall. The plaster covering it had crumbled here, and the pieces were still lying neatly under the blotch. Dean turned them over; only one side was covered with stuff like lichen and pieces of moss, about as much as the rest of the wall seemed to be covered in. The other side was still completely clean. “This broke off recently.”

Castiel nodded. “Well done. Go inside, grab some sensible clothes, a toothbrush, your phone. Anything you might need for a short trip. I’ll meet you back here in ten."

“What, we’re leaving?” Dean raised his eyebrows. If Castiel could determine the direction Meg had been taken in just from this, he was Lady Gaga.

“Yes. I’ll continue to look here, you can go and grab your stuff. We’re taking your car.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. See you in ten.”

As he walked back to the house, a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind cropped up.

_ Since when do you just let him boss you around like that? _  it said.  _You used to let him direct you in bed, but not in real life. You’re growing soft. You’re turning into his lapdog. His own, personal little bitch._

But it was surprising how easy Dean could dismiss those thoughts. In fact, those last three words didn’t make him angry at all. Instead, they made him groan just the tiniest bit.

_ Maybe this time the two of you will pull over at the nearest motel, you’ll actually get lucky. Maybe he’ll fuck you through the mattress. _

Dean had to stand still at that for a moment, if only to take a second to come to himself. It had been a while since he’d had thoughts like that. If he didn’t  _‘get lucky’_ , he’d definitely jack off tonight at least.

But right now he needed to grab his stuff.

He remembered at the last moment to take his little bottle of pills too; so far they hadn’t hurt him, so he should probably just stick to them. On the way out, he passed Ellen, who he quickly told that they were leaving right now, just so Sam would know.

When he finally rolled up the Impala next to Castiel, the older man had his arms crossed, an impatient expression on his face.

“I’m glad to see you took all the time you needed,” he drawled. Dean didn’t even flip him off.

“Are you going to get in or do you just want to stand out there and freeze to death?”

Castiel just rolled his eyes, then opened the passenger door and got in.

“So, where to?” Dean asked.

“Just follow the highway until I tell you where to get off.”

“You’re the boss.”

He didn’t even feel the need to ask how Castiel knew where to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAAHUEHUEHUEHEHEHE I'm sorry, it's just that I know what's to come in (I think) the next chapter. And you guys don't >:) Sadly, you'll have to wait a bit to find out, since I'm starting my first gishwhes tomorrow and won't have any time in the next eight days to write _at all_...


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter :) I've missed you guys. I feel like there were a few of my regular readers who didn't comment last chapter. It was so silent... But that's okay, no pressure on you guys :) Hope you like the next chapter! ;)

As they approached a motel, Dean felt slightly jittery. It was as if his nerves were pulled tight, like strings on a violin – not too much, but just noticeable. It itched. And he wasn’t sure what was causing it, but he had a slight inkling.

Overall, his thoughts were calm, silent. He took Cas’ direction without asking the man anything. He would probably not really get a proper answer anyway. But in the back of his head, there was just a small voice, muttering:  _where are we going? What is going on?_

The rest of his mind seemed uneasy at that voice, as if it was just a tad too noisy. He suspected that was the problem. He needed to clear his head. He needed to just sit down, maybe pour himself a drink or two, or a little jerk-off session, some good sleep. Just clear his head.

He did want to ask Cas questions, he did, but Cas wouldn’t have answers. The only reason Dean had attacked Sam this morning was because he suspected the guy of killing Meg. Cas however, well, as far as Dean could reason, his hands were most likely clean in all this. Relatively clean at least. Attacking  _him_ , asking him questions, was useless.

He shook his head. Thinking felt weird. Thoughts were slightly scrambled, just a tiny bit unorganised, books on a shelf that were of different sizes, titles not in alphabetical order or put together on base of theme, only a mess if you looked up close. He needed to clear his head. He needed sleep.

He pulled up on the parking lot, relieved he didn’t have to drive anymore with what was going on inside his head. He was out of the car before Cas, not even looking at him as he grabbed his duffel, then walked over to the motel room and quickly opened the door. He needed that bed pronto.

Castiel followed him, he could hear the older man close the door, then head for the shower. That was another strange thing. He wasn’t used to seeing Cas in such a…  _human_  way. But hitmen needed showers too. He just never really thought about it.

As Castiel turned on the water in the adjourning room, Dean searched his duffel bag. He still needed to brush his teeth after all before going to bed. And he didn’t give a damn if he was going to do it while Cas was naked in the shower. They’d seen each other naked plenty of times before. The man just had to deal with it.

He was pulled from his thoughts when his hand brushed against something smooth and round. It took him a second, but then he realised it was his meds.

_Huh._

He pulled out the bottle, staring at it for a minute. Something was bothering him. Tugging at the corners of his mind. It was a struggle to distinguish exactly what it was, but he felt like this was important, so he tried. He fought his exhaustion and thought hard.

_ Oh fuck. _

He recognised the little tugs he felt.

From Sue.

It felt like the first signs of withdrawal.

On the one hand, his thoughts carefully tugged at him, egging him on to take the pill he was supposed to take before going to sleep. On the other hand, his mind was trying to scream at him,  _you recognise this, you know this, this is bad!_  Except the screams were muffled and so easy to ignore…

But there were no cameras here. Castiel wasn’t watching him right now. If he didn’t take one, no-one would be the wiser. He  _had_  to take this opportunity.

As he put the bottle back in his duffel, the louder thoughts practically  _begged_  him to reconsider, to go for those calming little pills after all that made him so happy this morning. But Dean didn’t. Enough was enough. No more drugs.

He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste instead and walked into the bathroom. The second he opened the door, the shower shut off and the curtain was yanked aside, revealing a very naked, very wet, and very alert Cas, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

Dean stood frozen like a deer in headlights, his gaze focused on Cas’, never breaking, unwavering. Finally Castiel seemed to relax, and he closed the curtain and turned the shower on again.

“Next time, knock.”

Right. Well-trained hitman with reflexes in a vulnerable position. Dean was an idiot.

And slightly uncomfortable in his pants too after seeing that  _amazing_  body. Come to think of it, he’d never seen Cas fully naked without any drugs influencing him. And right now, he was definitely interested.

He decided to just brush his teeth for now, ignoring the twitching sensation in his pants. The thoughts in his head that were still tugging at his senses were a distraction too, so by the time he’d rinsed his mouth of the minty taste, his starting erection had mostly gone down again. He didn’t mind. He was tired, and just not in the mood.

He walked out of the bathroom, not looking back at the shower that was still running behind him, taking his clothes off with every other step. A motel bed had never looked so tempting before. He slid between the sheets with a sigh.

The sound of running water was finally cut off, and Castiel emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, little droplets of water rolling down his chest and back, making his slightly toned skin glisten. Dean couldn’t help but crack open an eye and stare a little as the hitman walked over to his own duffel bag and put on some clothes, his back turned to Dean.

“I’m getting some food. I assume you don’t want any, since you just brushed your teeth?”

What was it about these little road trips that made Dean’s exchanges with semi-psychopaths feel so damn domestic?

“No thanks,” he grunted in response. “’M gonna sleep.”

He didn’t even hear a response before slipping into blissful unconsciousness.

~666~

A harsh buzz, along with the horribly loud and sharp rattling noise of his phone skittering across the wooden surface of his nightstand was what woke Dean again. With an irritated grunt he reached out to grab the device, to find out he’d only been out cold for less than ten minutes. And apparently the reason he was awake again now was a text from Sam to ask him if they were making any progress.

If the kid had been here, Dean would’ve shoved the phone up his ass.

Instead he quickly sent a brief reply that no, right now they were taking a little break to regain their strengths, which was of course answered with something snarky. He rolled his eyes and slammed his phone down with a grunt, before picking it up again and quickly sending a text to Cas to tell him that Sam was on their asses. He wasn’t even sure when Castiel’s number had ended up in his phone, but it was there, so that was nice and easy.

Something buzzed. And it wasn’t Dean’s phone.

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking around to find the possible source. Eventually, his eyes fell on Cas’ duffel.

His gaze darted to the door while his brain tried to calculate how long it might take for Castiel to return. He decided he should have at least ten more minutes, depending on how long it would take the food to be ready, and quickly slipped out of bed. He was still tired, for god knew what reason, but right now his curiosity was finally getting the best of him.

It took him less than ten seconds of rummaging before Dean pulled Cas’ phone out of the bag. It felt heavy, even though it was just a light smartphone. That was most likely just in his head though.

And of course the thing was locked with a code.

He quickly got up to walk back to his bed and grabbed the phone that belonged to the motel. He didn’t think twice before dialling Charlie’s number.

_ “Dean? What’s going on?” _

“I eh, I accidentally locked my phone,” Dean responded. “It’s asking for a new code now, but I have no clue, I haven’t seen the manual to this thing in like two years. You got any way around it?”

There was a small sigh, and Dean could practically feel her roll her eyes.  _“Sure. Hold on…”_

And within another two minutes, Castiel’s phone was unlocked.

“You’re a star, Charlie. Thanks.”

_ “You’re welcome. Now go to sleep, you sound like you need it.” _

They hung up. Dean stared at the device in his hand, heart hammering in his throat. According to his own calculations, he had seven minutes left. If he wanted to do this, he had to do it now.

He opened Castiel’s texts, and scrolled down to Zachariah’s name, where most exchanges seemed to be taking place. There was a number to indicate the amount of texts, and the entire conversation was right there, both sides readable on one screen. Dean never felt fonder of smartphones.

His eyes skimmed over the latest exchange, which was from earlier today.

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ What if he approaches me again? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Then you let him, and you play along. You were the one who made that bed, now you’re going to have to lie in it. _

Dean nearly dropped the phone.

That was about him. It had to be. He scrolled up a little to make sure.

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Dean insists on coming along. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ That is a problem indeed. But if Sam has agreed, then there’s nothing you can do. Protesting might seem suspicious. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ What happens if we find Meg? What if she tells Dean things he’s not supposed to know? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ We don’t know who has her, or why. We don’t know what she has to say. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ We can’t take the risk. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ I agree there is a risk. But it is not your place to decide over this. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ What if he approaches me again? _

That fucker. Castiel had been hiding things from him.

But right now there were more important things to conclude from this. Like the fact that Cas didn’t know who took Meg, nor did Zachariah.

The way Zachariah was speaking though, it made it clear that he wasn’t working for Sam, no matter what the kid thought. Cas clearly wasn’t either, which Dean had suspected already. But now he knew who their mole was within the mansion. Who he could trust, and who he couldn’t.

There had to be more though. If they were so revealing in these few little exchanges, there had to be far more. He was actually surprised that the texts were so revealing. But he figured that they deserved to be cocky. No-one was monitoring them, and they were too good to be caught by the cops.

Dean scrolled up, past numerous texts, until he saw something that immediately triggered his memory.

_**ZACHARIAH:**  
Sam will be visiting a bar called the Roadhouse tomorrow night. His close friends practically live there. We can’t risk him talking, or them for that matter. I need you to send them all a warning. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ What do you need of me? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Burn it down. _

“Motherfucker,” Dean whispered. His hand clenched around the device until his fingers started turning white.

Cas was the one to burn the Roadhouse down. He’d nearly killed Ellen, Ash, Jo, even Sam. Although, since it said  _warning_  it was probably never the intention to kill any of them. That didn’t excuse his actions though.

This also explained why they were all with Sam in the mansion now. If Dean had been in his brother’s shoes, he would’ve wanted them to stay close too, where he could keep an eye on them.

As he scrolled down, he mostly read texts about other assignments, people for Cas to find or dispose of. Until he suddenly spotted his own name. It was about a month before he and Sam met up. About a month before he got dragged into this mess.

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Dean Winchester lost his job today. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ We’ll continue to keep a close eye on him. Things could change. If he moves out of his flat, we need to know. We can’t lose sight of him. He’s our last bargaining chip that is walking free out there. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ We can’t do anything to those already living with Sam? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Sam would realise the threat is far closer than he suspects. He might rebel. _

There were a few more meaningless texts, but then Dean spotted some big names.

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Sam’s been getting antsy. Michael believes we’re losing grip on him. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Does he need a warning? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Ruby suggested coaxing Sam into taking Dean in, giving Sam a little sense of false security. He might be more amiable then. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ This is not important to me. _

_**ZACHARIAH:**  
It is. I need you to keep a close eye on Dean, tell me when he’s getting into serious financial troubles. Sam could be his magical solution. Their contact has watered over the years. We need Dean to be desperate enough to take Sam’s offer without too much thought. _

Michael was not to be trusted either then. A bit more scrolling. Dean could read a bit more. Cas was running late, he could read just a little more…

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ I need you to keep a very close eye on Dean. Ruby might have had a point with bringing him here and Sam’s attitude, but I believe he can stir up a lot of trouble. Make sure he doesn’t. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Ruby already got him addicted on Sue. I saw him at the party, his pupils were extremely dilated. I am quite certain he didn’t notice her slipping it into his drink. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Dean took another dose, as I suspected he would. I took care of him. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Good. _

_**YOU:**  
I taunted Sam afterwards. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ That’ll be because of your medication. I’ll talk to Kevin, tell him to make some adjustments. His vitamin pills should not be affecting your hormones like this. _

Vitamin pills.

Dean’s head snapped up. He remembered Zachariah having one of those bottles, with the same pills as he was taking himself.

So those had been for Cas.

He would check the guy’s duffel for a bottle later. Right now he needed to read as much as possible.

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Sam has asked me to bring Dean back. He has also given me an envelope with something in it, and told me to open it when I find him. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Keep me updated. I want to know what is in that envelope. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ It was money and a pleading note to bring Dean back as unharmed as possible. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Perhaps there was a code hidden in it. I wouldn’t imagine him going to such lengths for just money and a note. _

_**YOU:**  
I believe it was bribing money for me, to take extra good care of Dean. He might think you would suspect him of bribing me for worse. His paranoia is getting the best of him. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Perhaps. _

More meaningless messages, and then Dean’s name again.

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ I feel a lot less sexually attracted to Dean than I did when he first arrived. _

_**ZACHARIAH:**  
Good. He clouds your judgment. _

_**YOU:**  
He seems insistent on getting in my personal space. It is getting very aggravating. _

_**ZACHARIAH:**  
He’s trying to get the upper hand on you by sexually manipulating you. Play along. As long as he feels like he’s winning, it will be us with the upper hand. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ Dean insists on coming along. _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ That is a problem indeed. But if Sam has agreed, then there’s nothing you can do. Protesting might seem suspicious. _

_ **YOU:**   
_ _ What if he approaches me again? _

_ **ZACHARIAH:**   
_ _ Then you let him, and you play along. You were the one who made that bed, now you’re going to have to lie in it. _

Every fucking thing had been a lie. Dean had been played. He was completely and utterly fucked.

He quickly put the phone back in the duffel. While rummaging around in there he found the bottle of pills too. They couldn’t be vitamin pills. It just didn’t add up.

The rumble of an engine sounded, and Dean swore under his breath. Of course the fucker had taken his Baby. It was the car they’d arrived in.

He quickly rushed to the bed and pulled up the blankets, heart racing almost painfully in his chest. He listened as the door opened, hoping he looked asleep enough.

After a second of silence in which he could just  _feel_  Castiel’s eyes on him, the footsteps finally went over to the table. There was a surprising lack of food smells, nor did Dean hear any plastic or paper crumpling. Which meant Castiel hadn’t gone to get food.

Dean didn’t stir though, didn’t look up and check. He was frozen under the blankets, his mind racing, all traces of exhaustion gone.

He was so completely, utterly fucked.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been chaotic and busy with college in full swing again. But here's the next chapter, finally. It's also been a long while since I put up warnings here, but yeah strong warning for this chapter: there's some pretty graphic violence-y stuff. Oh, and smut. Not as much as some of you'd liked, but oh well. Enjoy.

As the night went on, Dean felt the withdrawal dig its claws into him, deeper and deeper as the effects of the drug retreated further and further, Castiel’s even breaths sounding from the bed next to him during all those hours while his own grew harsher, until every nerve was pulled taut and he felt like he was going to scream. It was as if a constant electric current was skittering across his skin. The rub of the sheets burned like sandpaper, except it felt worse. The light that slowly started falling through the curtains when the morning came was like a sledgehammer to his brain. He could hear every breath, could feel them rushing through his lungs and windpipe, could feel his heartbeat all around him,  _pounding_ ,  _pounding_ ,  _pounding_. He felt like he was going mad.

In a way it reminded him of one of his trips on Sue. It was different this time, he wasn’t on drugs, but still.

Last time Castiel had taken care of him. Dean needed him to do it again.

He crawled out of bed, a grunt escaping him when his feet hit the cold floor. He was shaking. This was actually terrifying. How could he still not be used to this kind of crap after Sue?

“Cas.” His voice rasped, the word tearing his throat apart. “C-”

Castiel turned around, eyes sharp and awake as he took in the man standing next to his bed.

“Dean?”

“Help me,” he wheezed. Everything was too bright, too loud, too hot, too cold. His body was screaming.  _Help me._

He squeezed his eyes shut as if to brace himself for impact, then threw his leg over Cas’ body to straddle him, and surged forward into a kiss.

With his eyes closed like this, he pretty much crashed into the other man, pain flaring blinding white, but Cas was right there, pulling him in slowly. For a split second, Dean wondered if he would’ve been less controlled if he actually wanted Dean, but the thoughts dissipated quickly as his skin flared with the sensations running across it. He was on fire,  _again_ ,  _why did he always end up on fire_ , and only Castiel knew how to put it out with minimal damage.

Or maybe he actually created the biggest long-lasting damage. Because, in all honesty,  _Dean was fucked_.

He rolled his hips desperately, and again Castiel slowed him down, carefully removing his shirt, then ever so gently opening his pants. Dean thought he was going to scream. He didn’t know if the slowness of the process or the intensity of the sensations were more maddening. He wanted to beg,  _please_ , didn’t even know what he would be begging for, but he was losing his mind and he couldn’t say a word, couldn’t do anything but lose himself, drown in this ocean. It was as if he was blind. All there was, was that maddening – that  _maddening_  –  _everything_.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, if he zoned out or if his brain short-circuited or what, but when he came a little more to his senses, he was lying on his back, sobbing and crying as Cas was thrusting into him, slow, deep thrusts, a look of careful concentration on the older man’s face.

Dean was now truly drowning, couldn’t do anything but sob. Nothing felt real anymore; it was too much, too strong, like those surreal dreams that were just so vivid.  _God_  it hurt, but the friction was surging under his skin, cock throbbing in a way that actually  _did_  make him scream, or he thought anyway, he didn’t know anymore, there was just that constant thrusting of Cas and nothing else. “Put it out, C- I – please! Put it out…” A constant mantra that he couldn’t stop from leaving his mouth.

But it was working. As that feeling between his legs intensified, as his prostate got nailed and he dug his nails into Cas’ shoulders and screamed, everything else dimmed in comparison.

A hand wrapped itself around his cock, a low voice in his ear – “Gonna make you come now, Dean,” and he nodded,  _please, please yes_ , a tug, two tugs, and his whole body spasmed, back curled in an arch, feet cramped up, head thrown back as everything whited out.

~666~

It was silent.

Dean had never been more grateful for silence. The darkness of the room was like a cool compress to his eyes, the sheets barely noticeable against his skin. It was bliss.

Alright, it felt like the whole world had died outside, but for once, he quite liked it that way.

Finally some peace and quiet.

When he rolled over, a part of him, some weird, physical impulse, immediately felt the hollow absence of a body next to him. As if he’d expected Cas to still be there, so he could wrap himself around the man, bury his face in soft skin. As if he’d  _wanted_  that.

But the bed was empty.

Dean opened his eyes carefully, finding that the room was dark because it was night again. He’d slept through the day.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed as he jumped out of bed, immediately having to grab onto the nightstand from his heavy swaying. After his hypersensitivity of everything, including gravity, things seemed to have gone back to normal, which was in comparison of course a huge difference. He still needed to get used to it.

He grabbed his phone and dialled immediately, not caring about his spinning head. He nearly jumped when a classic Nokia ringtone came from outside, the door opening a second later to reveal Cas.

Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of the man. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked as panic bubbled to the surface.

Castiel was covered in blood, a gash above his head still bleeding, though not as heavily as what looked suspiciously like a gunshot wound between his ribs. The man looked up at Dean, eyes grim but clear. That was good at least. Wasn’t it? Dean actually didn’t have a clue.

“Well,” he managed to bring out gruffly as he sat down on a chair, “I believe I know where to find Meg.”

A bottle of vodka and some dental floss stitches later and Castiel looked ready and rearing to go again, though Dean definitely had his doubts.

“We need to move  _now_ , Dean,” the older man kept telling him. “They know we’re coming. If we don’t get there in time, they’re gonna be gone! How can you fail to see that!?”

“I’m not failing to see anything, Cas!” Dean shouted in reply. “I just don’t want you to rip your stitches and bleed out in front of me, is that too much to ask?”

“If that happens, you leave me behind and move on,” Castiel spat back. Dean felt the blood draining from his face.

“I couldn’t do that.”

Castiel let out a scornful laugh. “Well then, you are in the wrong profession.”

_ Yeah, tell me about it. _  “Look, I’m going on my own, that’s final.”

Cas just looked at him, not even dignifying Dean with a reply.

Five minutes later they were both sitting in the Impala, the silence thick enough to cut.

Dean didn’t really want to know how Castiel had found out where to go, but the man led him to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. A nice classic, then. It was a welcome difference from Asian, Polish and Canadian drug dealers. He was still trying to wrap his head around those.

He cut the engine. Before he could exit the car though, he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looked up into Castiel’s eyes, and was immediately taken aback by what he saw – cold, hard determination. The man was in his element here. He knew what he was doing. Dean swallowed.

“Keep your gun in your hand at all times,” the hitman told him. “One finger on the safety, the other on the trigger. Only cops in shows are told not to do that, they’re not supposed to accidentally shoot someone. Here you don’t take chance like that. Shoot first, ask questions later. You keep moving, and you stop for nothing but Meg. You got that?”

Dean nodded. He could feel his pulse speeding up, adrenaline starting to flow. There was something addictive about all of this, about how  _alive_  he felt.

Maybe he was in the right business after all.

“Let’s go.”

They got out of the car and headed for the building. Dean watched Castiel from the corner of his eye, saw the man pull out a gun as well, and it looked so natural in his hands, he looked so certain of what he was doing, so strong. If Dean was honest, it was a pretty fucking big turn-on.

The hallway they stepped into was huge, with doors everywhere. Dean knew before Cas even spoke what was coming.

“Split up. I’ll take left, you’re going right.”

Dean followed the orders without question – he knew better than to speak up right now. So he looked around sharply, checking each door for light underneath it, listening for any sound.

His head was still spinning a little from the drug withdrawal, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Sue. Perhaps this drug wasn’t as strong. He was grateful for the slight edge it gave him right now, though. It somehow helped him focus.

He passed several doors without hearing a sound, but as he neared the end of the corridor, there was a soft thud. His head swivelled around like a meerkat’s, his grip on his gun tightening. Effortlessly he switched the safety off and reached for the doorknob, straining his ears to make sure no-one was coming.

He threw open the door, gun-arm up –

and didn’t shoot. The room was empty, apart from one figure lying flat on a table.

_ Oh crap. _

He rushed over, and found his fears confirmed when he saw Meg, only half-conscious, slowly blinking up at him.

“Well hi there, Cupcake,” she drawled. A trickle of blood rolled down from the corner of her mouth, her teeth stained red with it.

She was naked, Dean was sure of it. Naked and strapped down with broad leather straps. The exposed skin was barely visible, covered in her own blood, with deep red gashes running criss-cross over her abdomen and thighs.

The wooziness hit him in full, and he only just managed to keep himself from hurling. Instead he swallowed down the acid.

“What happened to you?” he asked as he started undoing the straps. He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the wounds  _or_  the nakedness, didn’t want to imagine what else they could’ve possibly done to her. Each fumble with the straps made her gasp, but he didn’t apologise. He just needed to get her out.

“Hey, c’mon. Meg. Can you hear me? What happened? Who did this? Why did they take you?”

“I know stuff,” the nurse managed to answer. This was going too slow. Even if Dean would get her out of here, he wasn’t sure she’d survive the injuries. Although, if whoever had done this had wanted her dead, they would’ve killed her. Maybe they could get her out after all.

“Okay,” he replied. “Stuff. What kind of stuff?” He needed to keep her talking, needed to keep her conscious.

“I’m a spy, Dean,” she answered.

Dean’s hands stilled for a second.

“Tell me more.”

“I… there’s more drugs. I monitor the results and report. But I can’t write stuff down, paper traces, I…” Her eyelids fluttered closed, and Dean grabbed her face, making those eyes shoot open again, looking up at him, clear for only a split second before hazing over again.

“Don’t you dare lose consciousness on me here, Meg. C’mon, keep talking. Tell me more.”

“I know stuff, Dean,” she wheezed. The straps were undone now, and as carefully as possible, Dean lifted her up, bridal style. There was no way he was going to make her walk now.

Though this meant that he couldn’t shoot anyone now.

_Crap._

“Gimme a second,” he muttered as he put her back on the table. She gasped again, but there was nothing he could do for her. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent Cas a text to let him know where they were and he wouldn’t have his hands free if he wanted to leave the room with Meg. “Keep talking,” he told her.

“Dean, Lilith.”

Now  _that_  caught his attention.

“What about Lilith?” He spun back around to her, leaning in and putting his hand on her head, their faces so close he could smell the blood on her breath. “C’mon, Meg, don’t clock out on me here.”

She blinked slowly, then a little quicker. Her breath picked up, rattling over chapped, blood-tainted lips. “Lilith Milton. She’s Lucifer’s kid. No-one’s… he’s not been around. But his daughter… They don’t want me to tell you.”

“So instead of killing you to keep you from telling me, they kidnap you?”

“They needed the results for those drugs, Dean,” she answered. Her wounds were not bleeding as heavily as when he found her. That had to be a good sign.

There were sounds coming from outside. Dean just hoped it was Cas, but he grabbed his gun anyway. He could never be too careful.

“But you didn’t tell them?”

“They’d kill me afterwards,” she almost shrugged, the movement draining colour from her face. “Dean, you can’t – don’t trust Clarence. He doesn’t like you, doesn’t want…”

“Yeah, I already know,” Dean replied grimly. Those were definitely footsteps – too many to belong to one person. His grip on his gun tightened. “What do the secondary drugs do? What’s the bigger picture here?”

“I don’t know what the bigger picture is,” Meg answered. “I don’t know what the main effects and what the side-effects are, what the kinks in the cable are and what has to be smoothed out. I just observe and note down.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean snapped, “what –”

The door came flying open, and he dived behind the table to hide from the bullet rain, yanking Meg down from it to shield behind it with him. She screamed in pain and he got a wave of her blood washing over him, but he ignored it, instead quickly dropping cover to fire back a few shots. There was a yelp, and he knew he’d hit someone.

_ Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit this was what Sam had meant, this was the GTA aspect, the adrenaline rush making his heart and breath race and just WOW – _

He fired a few more shots, this time hearing two yelps, mixing with a cry of his own as a numbing fire pierced his arm. Meg had now properly lost consciousness, meaning Dean at least didn’t have to fuss over her anymore.

“Keep the nurse alive!” someone yelled as more footsteps approached. “We need the nurse to –” the voice was cut off with a strangled cry, and Dean looked up just in time to witness Castiel slit another man’s throat, blood spraying everywhere.

Dean found himself once again frozen, a rabbit in headlights, as the hitman approached with steady steps and pulled out his gun.

_ Don’t trust Clarence _ , it echoed through his head.

_Fuck._

The shot was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rant at me? Here or on [tumblr](http://ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com/). I love you all :3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright, after your fantastic comments for that cliffhanger last chapter I decided to upload a new one a little quicker :) *blinks innocently*

The thing was, Castiel never missed a shot.

So in all fairness, Dean totally had the right to be completely stunned about the only bullet hole in him being in his arm from the shootout.

Being stunned about that hadn’t stopped him from leaving the hitman’s ass behind at the warehouse though. He wasn’t even going to go back to the motel; it would be a long drive straight back to Sam’s evil mansion. And Cas could go fuck himself.

The wound in his arm wasn’t even that painful, in all fairness. It was more of a graze than anything else, really. No, his swearing all the way back didn’t relate to that.

It related to the dead body in his trunk.

Well he couldn’t have just left Meg behind, could he?

Though maybe that decision was down to him being still slightly stunned as well. Dean just prayed to any and every entity listening that he wasn’t going to get pulled over. A blood-soaked shirt was kind of like a neon sign that read  _CHECK THE TRUNK_. God, how had everything become so messy so quickly?

When he finally got back to the mansion, he found out that there too, shit had hit the fan.

“Dean –  _Jesus_ , what happened to you? No, you know what, tell me later. Emergency meeting, right now, in my office. And I want Castiel there too, so please tell him to get his ass over, okay?”

“Nice seeing you too again, Sammy,” Dean replied with a slightly exaggerated eye-roll. Right, so bandaging his arm – something he would now have to do himself with Meg gone,  _fuck_  – would have to wait a bit longer. He suddenly realised something.

“Hold on, Sam.” His brother stopped in his tracks and turned around. The expression on his face was… alarming. To say the least. Whatever had happened, it was serious.

“You don’t know where Cas is?”

Ah, and instant bitch-face. Dean had missed that expression a little, if he was being honest.

“No, Dean,” his little brother spat. “You were the one to see him last. So can you go get him?  _Thank you._ ” Sam turned away again to head up to his office.

“I left him behind.”

The younger Winchester froze.

“You did what now?” He slowly turned around again, and Dean honestly hadn’t seen his little brother this pissed in a while.

“I left him at the, the warehouse where we found Meg,” he replied. “He shot Meg straight in the head, no warning – missed my face by three inches!”

“Yeah,” Sam retorted, each word slow and deliberate. “He shot her on my orders. Wasn’t that clear to you?"

“She had important information!” Dean exploded. He was sick of this. He was sick of people shooting each other, betraying each other, the secrets,  _God_ , the  _fucking secrets_  – and most of all, he was tired of Cas.

That little thought stung more than he’d like to admit, but it was the truth. He’d hit his limit. He was  _done_.

“Yeah, information that I’m sure many people would like to hear,” Sam spat back. “If she couldn’t be saved, she had to be taken out. That happened, information didn’t get leaked. Right?”

Dean swallowed. He didn’t know what he could tell Sam, what he could admit to out loud in this hallway. So he just averted his eyes. “Right.”

“Then I’ll see you in my office in five.”

~666~

Dean was standing next to his brother, being the  _right hand man_ , even if he had no clue what was going on. Across from them were Ruby, Michael, Crowley, Ash and Zachariah. Dean supposed those were the most important people involved, the ones who knew about the reality of their operation. He wondered if Meg would’ve been involved if she’d still been alive. But then again, Kevin wasn’t here either, and he definitely knew about the drug operation. He wondered what Zachariah and Ruby were doing here then. Michael and Crowley were most likely here as lawyers, and Ash, well… Dean figured he kept an eye on what went in and out of the building, but the other two? He had no idea. But then again, he kind of didn’t care. It wasn’t important. Not as important as what was going down right now.

“We received a message from the Arbauld family,” Sam spoke. “Szarek is closing in on them fast, will probably hit them within the next few days, and he wants us to help him out like we’d agreed. As you all know, we’ve also agreed with Szarek to stand down and merge with  _them_. Now, these next few days are crucial. Edward is not going to be happy when he realises he stands alone, and he’s gonna want to take us down before he does, or even take us down with him. Because of that, security is going to be increased.”

“Is it even physically possible to increase security even further?” Dean asked incredulously, eyebrows raised. The gaze Sam shot his way was downright murderous, ice-cold and frankly  _terrifying_.

“I don’t need you here to question my authority, Dean,” his little brother spat. “Ash?”

“Bit of tweaking, few extra instalments and we’re set,” Ash answered.

“Thank you. As I was saying, over the next few days, no-one gets so much as a Twitter notification without me knowing about it. Also, if anyone in this building is even  _on_  Twitter, I will personally escort them to the gates of Hell. No internet, no calls, no texts, no phones whatsoever, am I understood? Anything that can be used to track us down is going in a lead-lined vault. No-one leaves either. Everything we do is documented, so if Arbauld tries to drag us down with him, screw us over to Szarek, we’ll have airtight alibis.”

“Do you want me to notify Castiel to get underground before we go on lockdown?” Zachariah asked. Michael’s head swivelled around.

“He isn’t here?”

“Dean left his ass at a warehouse, he couldn’t get a rental car in time,” the older man drawled as he pulled his phone out. “Sam, yes or no?”

“Yes please,” Sam nodded. “That’s the last text anyone sends from here – apart from you, Ruby.”

Ruby looked up from her spot in the corner. “What do you want  _me_  to do?”

“Message Lilith,” the younger Winchester replied. “Tell her shit’s about to hit the fan. She’ll probably be aware of it already, she’s pretty invested in the drug world I suspect, but it’s better if we message her anyway, show her we’re loyal.”

Ruby nodded and pulled out her phone too. Michael was still glaring at Dean, which was starting to become a little unsettling. Since when was the guy so invested with his brother’s whereabouts anyway?

“So, any more questions?”

“Yeah,” Ash spoke up. “How long’s this whole siege situation gonna last exactly?”

The question seemed to tire Sam, who dragged his hand down his face before answering. “About a week, max,” he finally answered. “Until Szarek gives us the all-clear.”

Ruby now held her hand up as well. “Yeah, I’ve got a question,” she said, “Dean, whose corpse-juice are you covered in?”

Dean looked down at his clothes. In the five minutes between running into Sam in the hallway and getting to his office, all he’d had time for was quickly scrubbing his hands and face. He sighed, then looked up, his gaze hard.

“It’s Meg’s.”

The five people in front of him froze.

“Yeah,” Sam added, awkwardly breaking the silence. “That’s another thing I wanted to say. Sorry. Eh, I want to bury her, of course, but that would leave evidence, and burning her would create smoke signal…”

“You’re dunking her in an acid bath.” That was Ash.

“…Yeah. Kevin’s preparing it as we speak.”

Dean felt bile rise up in his throat. The kid was too young for that, there was just no way. “Sam…” he muttered, but his brother shook his head.

“Ash, Ruby, Zachariah, you can all go. Keep me updated if you hear or see anything. And I mean  _anything_ , Ash.” The younger man only flipped Sam off in response while walking out the door, not even bothering to look back. “Michael, Crowley, I need you two to cover all our legal bases. Bury yourself in paperwork. This next week, we need everything in pristine order, got it?”

“Yes sir,” Crowley drawled before walking out, Michael on his heels.

Sam finally turned to Dean, then let out a long sigh.

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.  _You left Cas behind._  I don’t think you realise how much trouble we could get into because of that!”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Well excuse me, but I had no friggin’ clue what was going down here. A bloodied corpse,  _someone I actually knew and talked to on a regular basis_ , had just fallen on me, killed by the guy who had been fucking me. So yeah. Excuse me for dumping his ass. I’m so sorry I compromised your little situation here.”

For a moment, Dean wasn’t sure what Sam was going to do. He couldn’t get a read on the guy; one second he looked like he was going to murder Dean, then he looked terrified, followed by thoughtful, then determined. And what he said next didn’t help Dean figure out what was going through his little brother’s head right now either.

“I’m going to bring Ellen up-to-date,” Sam spoke. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

“Sam – wait.”

The younger man looked up. Now there was an expression Dean could understand;  _dead-beat tired_. Dean felt a pang of sympathy for his little brother.

“I’ll help Kevin out. No need for him to be exposed to shit like that.”

Sam gave a grateful nod. “Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem.”

They stood looking at each other awkwardly for a moment before Dean finally cleared his throat. “Well, um. Yeah. See you around.”

“Yeah.”

And with that, Dean turned around and finally left the office, closing the door behind him.

He didn’t see Sam sitting down behind his desk, eyes closed.

He didn’t hear his little brother whisper, over and over again: “Please… Please….”

~666~

It was incredibly quiet that day. There would be no parties, formal or informal, no-one went out on errands. The news of Meg’s death spread like wildfire too to add to it, hushing everyone into mourning, even if she had been a bit of a bitch. And somehow it went paired with the rumour that Dean had been the one to take her out. Which made sense, of course, since he’d actually said that the blood he’d been covered in had been Meg’s. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t in the mood either to fight the accusations. He just let people talk. Fuck them. It would just add to his image of big bad mobster boss, which would make bitch-ass Lilith happy.

Speaking of which… Lilith was Lucifer’s daughter. Lucifer, who the family apparently hadn’t heard from for years. It was too much coincidence that his daughter was sponsoring the business one of his brothers was lawyering for and the other was killing for. He had to be involved somehow. Dean just wasn’t sure yet how.

But the people who’d taken Meg, they’d known. They hadn’t wanted her to tell him that she was Lucifer’s daughter, meaning there was definitely something fishy going on there. Maybe...

Maybe Lucifer, or his men, or his daughter’s men or something, were spies too. They had wanted intel on those drugs. Maybe they worked for the government.

But no, that couldn’t be it. Lilith had full access to all corners of the mansion. If she’d been spying for the government, they would have been busted a long time ago.

So what, another drug cartel? Lucifer and Sam were rivals in the business? That made more sense. They would’ve found out about the alternative drugs through Lilith, and Meg too – she’d said she was a spy after all, meaning she had been working for them.

But what about his theory where Lilith was one of the people who controlled Sam? That didn’t fit anymore, in that case. Did it?

Dean was starting to give himself a headache.

Maybe he was asking the wrong questions. After all, Sam hadn’t spoken a word to him about the alternative drugs they’d been making. Cas had even been taking them, meaning he had no clue about them either. These drugs were serious underground stuff that almost no-one seemed to know about; apparently not even Dean was allowed to know.

Maybe that had been the reason Meg had been killed. Sam hadn’t just wanted to keep those secrets from Lucifer; he’d wanted to keep them from Dean as well.

So what was so special about them?

He was pulled from his musings by a muffled  _ping_  coming from his pocket.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he muttered under his breath as he pulled out his phone. He’d been supposed to turn it off, but he’d forgotten.

Oh well, too late now, he supposed. It couldn’t hurt to at least check the text he’d gotten.

It was from Cas.

There was an address.

Attached to it was a photograph.

Of Cas.

Tied to a chair with metal restraints.

Eyes filled with fire.

The rest of his face barely visible underneath the bruises and the blood that was seeping from a head-wound.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles like a maniac*


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, it has been too long, I've missed you all! But finally here's the next chapter :) Just a little head's up, there's a tiny bit of homophobia and quite a bit of blood and violence in this. All in all a dark chapter. Hope you enjoy!

“Are you completely insane!?”

“Sam, this is my fault! Don’t you see that? I need to fix this!”

Sam outright  _laughed_  at that. “Of course I see that this is your fault. Don’t you remember the look I gave you when you told me you left his ass behind?”

Dean was about to crack some sarcastic remark, but Sam held up his hand. “Don’t answer that,” he said. “You fucked up. Which seems to be a recurring theme for you.”

Again Dean wanted to protest, and again Sam stopped him. “Don’t. You.  _Dare_. I’ve had it, Dean. Not even with your fuck-ups, I can handle that, but your  _self-pity_ , God, please stop it! I don’t care how noble you need to feel, I’m not letting you go out there and walk straight into the most obvious trap of the century!”

“Sam –”

“ _No_.” Sam’s voice broke, and Dean immediately felt the urge to pull his little brother in for a bone-crushing hug.

_ You know what? Fuck it. _  He followed up on his urge, pressed Sam close until he could feel the guy shake.

“I don’t want to lose you, okay?” the muffled words came. “You’ve already got a gunshot-wound. I don't want to see you come back in a body-bag just because you feel some fucked-up form of responsibility for this guy that basically fucked you over.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Dean muttered as he let go and took a small step back, one hand still on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, Sammy. I got out of that last mission practically unscathed. Sure, one hole in the side of my arm, but that was when I was fighting like five guys on my own. I can handle myself, you know?” Sam only grunted in response, but Dean knew it was a sign that he was winning the guy over.

“I need to do this, Sam,” he said softly. “Yes, he’s an untrustworthy son of a bitch. Yes, he screwed me over. But he also knows stuff. And it’s my fault he’s out there. So I’m gonna get him out. Alone – no-one else needs to get hurt because of me. Okay?”

Sam looked at him for a good amount of time before sighing. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They both cracked a weak little smile at that. Dean knew they were pretty epically screwed at this point. He was aware that shit was going to go down and nothing was certain from here on. But at least he and Sam still had each other.

Or, well, as long as Dean didn’t get his ass killed.

~666~

As he drove across the state, Dean got some time to think about the text. Why was it sent to him instead of Sam? That was the one bit that puzzled him most. It would have made more sense to send a death-threat of an employee to the main boss. But they had sent it to Dean instead.

So whoever it was, they most likely knew about him and Cas. Now, Dean suspected the message was from Arbauld, since Sam had said they would most likely try and retaliate when they found out about the betrayal. But how did they know?

Oh well. He supposed it didn’t matter. What he needed to busy himself with was strategy. Last time, Cas had led the charge, had told him how to approach the building and what to do when he got inside. This time, he had to do it on his own.

He probably should have checked out the look of the building on Google Maps or something before going there.

Dean knew he wasn’t going to make it there before nightfall, it was too far north, but instead of pulling over he decided to just keep driving. It might not be the best idea, even Cas had always prioritised some time on a mission for sleep instead of chasing down his target.

But then again, Dean wasn’t Cas.

So he drove all night, keeping himself awake with cheap coffee from gas stations he passed along the way. By the time the building – nothing more than a simple house standing on its own – came in sight, Dean was in Arbauld territory. Or, well, what used to be Arbauld territory. Szarek had probably taken over by now.

Right. A normal house then. That meant there were plenty of rooms to hide in or furniture to hide behind. It was good for him if he needed cover, but bad if there were people waiting for him, hidden out of sight. It would also be difficult to manoeuvre through the building if he needed to escape quickly.

He shot a quick glance at his silencer, but then decided he didn’t need it. If there was any commotion going on in the house, it would be heard everywhere anyway. He could just as easily just shoot someone without the silencer, and it made it easier to carry his gun around.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket then to take a second glance at the picture that was sent to him, to see if he could figure out any clues as to where in the house Cas would be. Sadly, there were none. The chair Cas was tied to looked like a regular dining chair, and the wall behind him was empty.

Right then. He’d been out here long enough. They’d probably heard his engine when he drove up to the house, so the element of surprise had not even been an option here. Time to go in guns blazing then. Killing any member of the Arbauld family wasn’t going to do any damage anymore. And hey, if he’d been standing here for so long without any reaction from within the house, it was free for him to go in, right?

As he suspected, the front door wasn’t even locked. Against his suspicions though, that was because the lock had been forced.

Something wasn’t right.

It became clear when he walked into the living room, where he stumbled upon five bodies. Whatever trap had been set up for him, someone had beaten him to it.

Now holding his gun out, every nerve tense, Dean checked the other rooms carefully. Wherever he went, he was met with the same image; walls riddled with bullet holes and spatters of blood everywhere.

He climbed the stairs slowly, trying his best not to make the steps creak. Blood was still glistening on the walls, meaning that whatever had happened, had happened recently. Right now, all he was hoping for was that they hadn’t killed Cas too. Then all this risking his own ass would be for nothing.

Dean decided he would check the main bedroom first. It should be the biggest room on this floor, thus the most logical room to set up a hostage in.

It turned out he was right. When he cracked open the door, Cas was sitting right there, slumped in his chair, a perfect trail of blood down the side of his face and along the line of his neck. Dean could see more traces of blood, and the old bruises from when they rescued Meg stood out sharply against pale skin and dark scruff.

Raising his gun a little higher, he opened the door further, the rest of the room coming into view.

All furniture had been shoved aside to clear space around Cas. There were no bullet holes here, no bodies littering the floor. Only one body on the bed – one that was very much alive, and at the moment pointing a gun at Cas.

“Dean Winchester, I presume?” the man on the bed drawled. His accent suggested he was Eastern-European. Dean gave him a quick once-over; hair dyed white-blond, cold, watery grey eyes, straw-blond beard, and built like a brick shithouse. His nose had to have been broken at least several times over the years, and ugly scars crisscrossed across his arms. Everything about the man shouted  _don’t mess with me_. Dean wasn’t quite sure yet if he was going to.

“That would be me,” he responded, not putting down his gun but keeping it trained on the man. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

The man didn’t laugh, didn’t even crack a smile. He just kept his bored expression as he too checked Dean out. “Dominik Szarek,” he replied eventually. Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“In the flesh? What an honour.” He still wouldn’t pocket his gun. Not until Szarek lowered his own. “Can I just ask, sir, what exactly happened here? And maybe more importantly, is there a reason for you to have your gun aimed for my colleague?”

Szarek gave a little nod. “Good questions, Mr. Winchester. As you might have known, this used to be one of Arbauld’s safe-houses.” He made a waved his free arm in a broad gesture. “Not anymore.”

Dean tightened his grip on the mother-of-pearl handle. It wasn’t difficult to see this was going to end in some form of blood. “Sir, we had an agreement. You take over Arbauld territory and let me and my brother’s business merge with you. So I’m asking you again – why exactly are you aiming at my colleague over there?”

“Well, you see, Mr. Winchester,” Szarek answered as he shifted to sit a little more upright, Dean’s arm jerking along to keep the gun aimed perfectly at the gangster’s forehead, “the Arbauld family told me you would come over here. They seemed to think I wouldn’t want to work together with someone who turned his back on an agreement.”

Dean closed his eyes for just a second, groaning internally. “We would not have been able to withstand your forces, sir,” he replied when he opened his eyes again. “Siding with you was our best interest; turning our backs on the Arbaulds was sadly a necessity to survive in this situation.”

Szarek nodded again. “So I figured. You wouldn’t be able to turn against me, not even after joining me and growing in strength. I have faith for you and your brother not to betray  _me_.”

“Then I’m going to ask you one more time, sir,” Dean said grimly. “Why are you aiming your gun at my colleague?”

Now Szarek did smile, and Dean knew they were fucked. “When I arrived, the family told me something funny. Apparently you and your  _colleague_  Castiel here fuck each other on a regular basis.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Would you happen to know where they got that information from?”

“You gave him a blowjob right outside Beth’s room.”

“Oh. Right.”  _Dean Winchester, dipshit of the century._

“You see, Mr. Winchester,” Szarek continued, “I’m not too particularly fussed about you and your brother turning your backs on the Arbaulds. I call that a sound business decision. However…”

He slowly got up, gaze fixed on Dean while his gun stayed fixed on Cas, “ _fags_  are another thing entirely.”

_BANG._

Dean blinked, staring at the big body that a couple of seconds ago had been Szarek on the floor. The back of his head was a mess of white-blond hair matted with the sticky blood pouring out and forming a fast-growing puddle on the floor. Dean quickly took a step back.

“Thank  _fuck_ ,” Cas’ voice came, and Dean nearly fired his gun a second time as he jumped. “I thought the two of you were going to talk forever. Come untie me.”

Dean turned towards the man, whose eyes were as vibrant as ever, almost more even with their contrast against the red of the blood still steadily trickling down his face. Within two strides he made it to the chair and punched Cas right in the jaw, hard enough to make the man’s head fly back with a crack.

“ _Dean -!_ ”

“No,” Dean hissed. Anger and adrenaline course through him; anger for Szarek and his homophobic remark, anger for Cas and his lies. This wasn't how he'd imagined things to go, but now that he was here, he was seeing red, and all his initial good intentions had flown straight out the window. “It’s my turn. I’ve had it, Cas, I’ve had it with every single goddamn fucking thing surrounding this! I don’t care who you are going to report this all to, Zachariah or some unknown higher power or  _whatever_. I don’t care if someone is listening in. We’re going to talk  _right now_. And you’re going to finally give me some answers.”

Cas spat out some blood, his teeth now stained red too. There was too damn much blood in this business. Funnily enough though, Cas seemed to be able to wear the look pretty damn well. Probably because had a lot of practice.

“Well, I can at least tell you that no-one is listening in right now,” the hitman spoke. “You’re probably right though about me reporting this. But if you don’t care, then shoot.”

Dean pulled the trigger again, and Cas shouted hoarsely in pain. “I meant your questions, you ass!” he called out, trying his best to level out his breathing with a bullet-hole in his foot.

“That one was for burning down the Roadhouse,” Dean spat. His voice was dropping dramatically, but he didn’t care. He took his time rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up, which was already, like the walls, smattered with small crimson droplets, before moving closer to the man before him.

“Alright, question number one. What kind of pills are you taking?”

Cas frowned. “Really? They’re vitamin pills.” The nozzle of the gun was pressed against his cheek, metal still burning hot from the gunshot, and Cas let out another strangled cry, though quickly managing to cut himself off by biting his tongue. “Alright, if they’re not vitamin pills,” he spat out, “I have no clue. Next question please.”

Right. So when it came to any information surrounding the blue pills, Cas was completely useless. Good to know.

“Why did you kill Meg?”

The man closed his eyes briefly at that. “I knew Sam wanted me to kill her,” he answered. “He didn’t say it expressly, but Meg had to go. He never said why.”

“Was it because she was going to tell me about Lilith?”

Cas looked up then. “No. Or if it was, I wasn’t made aware of it. I just knew that when you texted me in that warehouse that Meg would be in bad shape, and it would be a good excuse for me to take her out.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. So far this was going nowhere. At least it sounded like Cas was being honest. But then again, Dean hadn’t even been able to see the man resented having sex with him.

“Alright. Final question.” Cas looked at him expectantly, nothing indicating that he was suffering from his wounds apart from a twitching muscle in his jaw. Dean grinned coldly. This was one question Cas at least could have an answer to.

“What was in the envelope Sam gave you?”

The hitman froze, and Dean’s grin widened.  _Gotcha._

“How do you know about that?”

“You should probably delete your messages every now and then,” he drawled as he trailed the gun along Cas’ jaw. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he was riding an adrenaline high, and it was surprisingly  _fun_.  _Way better than Sue._

Again Cas closed his eyes, this time in defeat.

“Was it money?”

“No.”

“So what was it?”

Dean felt like sitting down. This was a good moment to sit down, preferably nice and close to Cas, where he could keep intimidating him some more. Except there wasn’t a goddamn chair in sight apart from Cas’. So Dean shrugged internally and straddled the hitman’s lap, yanking his head back by his hair.  _God_ , he was pissed. He was sick of all the bullshit, of all the lies. Cas was going to tell the truth now. Dean would make sure of it.

“Come on,” he whispered. “You can tell me. No-one is listening, remember?”

Cas’ mouth twitched. “Sam is.”

It took a moment before the words hit Dean.

“Wait – what?”

“He gave me a tiny wireless microphone. Ash made it for fun once, before I burned down the Roadhouse. When you were out, I installed it in your Eustachian tube. The batteries are where your right wisdom tooth used to be. Sam begged me in an attached letter not to tell anyone. He just wanted to be able to keep close tabs on you himself.”

Dean swallowed.  _Well fuck._  Wait, did that mean Sam had heard him having sex with Cas?  _Double fuck._

He tightened his grip on Cas’ hair, causing the man to wince a little. “So why did you not tell anyone then?” He leaned closer, their faces only inches away, and fuck, maybe Dean was getting hard from all this. The hitman underneath him narrowed his eyes, clearly aware of it, but neither men moved or made any remarks about it. They just held each other’s gaze, each exhale skimming across each other’s face.

“I don’t know,” Cas finally answered. Dean let out a breath and leaned back, his grip on Cas’ hair loosening. “I just… That month was a bit of a strange one. I was stuck in a cabin with you for a long time.”

“Got some time to reflect?” Dean remembered how Cas had been doubtful too when he’d brought up the man’s superiors.

Cas’ expression hardened. “Too much time.”

With a sigh, Dean slid off Cas’ lap. The rush was waning, and exhaustion was catching up fast. “You think you can drive us back?”

The hitman snorted. “You shot me in the foot.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yep. You can take a catnap right now, though. The bed’s right there.”

Dean looked at where Cas had nodded, and at the dead body right next to it. He swallowed.

“Fine,” he snapped, then asked, a little softer: “You keep watch?”

Cas thought for a moment before giving a solemn nod. “Of course.”

God, things were so screwed up between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... If someone calls you a fag, please don't shoot them? Thank you. Oh, also, even though I'm not sure yet (since I haven't written it yet), the next chapter might be the last...


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long-ass hiatus!! College caught up with me and just life in general. Anyway, here's the final chapter of the fic. Hope you'll all enjoy. <3

As usual, the drive back to Sam’s was tense. Though, actually,  _tense_  might be the understatement of the century.

When Dean had woken up, the first thing he’d done was grab some disinfectant for Cas’ foot. The second thing he’d done was untie him. Cas hadn’t even looked at him during the whole ordeal, but the guy had no right to sulk about it, did he? After all, he hadn’t even asked Dean to untie him before Dean went to sleep. So yeah. Cas had no right to complain.

Except maybe it had been better if Cas  _had_  complained. At least there would’ve been words then, some insight into the guy’s mind. As it was, Dean was driving with a man next to him who’d been shot in the foot by yours truly, and who wasn’t even acknowledging his existence. As tough as Dean liked to act these days, guilt and pain still managed to eat away at him. Shooting Cas had done nothing for his twisted, conflicted emotions about the guy other than giving him the feeling that he shot himself in the stomach along with it.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. There would be no stop at a motel today. The memories of what happened last time they stayed at one together were too painful. No. They were heading straight home. Or, well, what had to go for home these days.

But at least Sam was waiting for him. And Ellen, Jo, Charlie…

_ God _ , how had everything become such a mess? How could he ever have let Sam run out and go to Stanford? This was insane. Dean’s brother was stuck in the mafia world. His surrogate family nearly died. He got addicted. And then there was Cas, but he’d rather not think about that. For now he just needed to focus on getting back.

A flash of memory hit him; Meg, rolling her eyes at him.  _Wow, Cupcake, you_ really _did a number on him, didn’t you?_  He could imagine it so clearly. And he hadn’t even really  _liked_  Meg. But she was gone too now. Also his fault. Dean had fucked everything up.

The pain lasted for hours, no words from Cas to drown it out, the music not helping either. All Dean could do was keep driving and hope the sensation of a gaping hole in his chest would get less eventually.

Arriving at Sam’s mansion to be met by a small army of black SUVs was not going to help. It did distract him from the pain though.

“What the hell is going on here?” He was about to step out of the car, but suddenly Cas’ hand shot out and grabbed him by his wrist.

“Leave your gun in the car,” was the only warning he got. The man was still not looking at him.

_ Alright then. _

As he opened the door, five men in full black riot gear with their guns held out approached him, and  _fuck okay_  now he got what was going on. His hands shot up into the air as his car got surrounded. Behind him he could hear the rusty squeak of the other door of his car, indicating Cas was getting out as well. Dean desperately wanted to turn around and make sure the guy was holding up his hands as well, but something told him sudden movements weren’t a very good idea right now.

“Dean Winchester?”

“Um… Yes?”

One of the men quickly moved forward and pushed him against the car, causing him to let out a grunt and a “Hey,  _careful_!”

“You’re under arrest.” Handcuffs were clicked onto his wrists. From his new angle he could watch Cas receive the same treatment, and as the man winced, he called out again, ignoring the spiel about rights the agent behind him rattled on about.

“Watch it, dickbag! The guy’s injured, okay!”

Finally Cas looked up. The look Dean received was an ice-cold sneer.

“Funny you should mention,” the man spat before his expression went blank again as he let his own agent manhandle him into a van. Dean just stared as it happened. That was  _low_. But then again, totally deserved.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, one he wanted to shoot himself for that it only came now.

“Where the hell is Sam? Where are all the others?”

“Oh, we’ve got them all in custody, don’t worry,” the agent replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he said it. “No-one got injured. Your little club here’s pretty civilised, I’ve gotta give you that. In fact, you’re acting out strongest. They went under real easy, didn’t they, boys?” The agents laughed as Dean’s mind reeled.

_ His club. _  It still felt weird to think of himself as one of the bosses of this whole thing. But then again, he wasn’t really, was he? Someone else was running the show. And now his family was going down for it.

A family that barely resisted arrest. Even Sam, apparently. Dean honestly didn’t know anymore what to make of all this mess.

From there on, he just zoned out. Why would he pay attention to what was going on around him anymore? He was arrested. Stuck in the back of a S.W.A.T. van. The only thing he could imagine being good about this situation was the fact that at least the hell of this whole ordeal was over, but even that wasn’t a guarantee. After all, prison was not exactly a picnic, from what Dean heard.

After being brought to an interrogation room, they made him wait. He was left on his own for hours, stewing in his own juices of guilt, worried sick about where everyone else was. Was Sam alright? Were they grilling Charlie? He winced at the thought. He couldn’t think about that. It was too painful.

It wasn’t until about four hours later when a woman walked in, her face murderous. “Got you a message,” she said as she put a piece of paper down in front of him. She immediately walked out again to leave Dean alone, muttering to herself about not being a fucking secretary.

Dean’s heart jumped in his chest. He recognised the handwriting –  _Sam_. What would Sam have to say to him? And how did it get approved by security?

As he read it, his heart sank so quickly again that it physically hurt.

_ Michael will offer himself up as our lawyer. REJECT HIM. I’ll represent us instead. _

Sam, who’d only taken law for a year or so. Now, Dean loved his brother – but that sounded like the dumbest plan on planet Earth.

_ ~End~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, I'm evil like that... Come find me and talk on [tumblr](http://ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com/). There will be a sequel of course, don't you worry about that!! Again, I will announce on tumblr when I start writing that, so if you don't want to subscribe to me here on AO3 you can just keep an eye on that. Love you all for reading and dropping comments, seriously. Thank you all so much. I hope you'll all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. <3 <3


	29. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick letter to all those who have read this fic or stumble upon it in the future. <3

Oh boy. It has been a WHILE, hasn't it? 1.5 years, to be almost exact.

I still occasionally receive messages from new/random readers asking whatever happened to the sequel to this thing, and so I thought, you know what, for anyone else showing up a little late to the party, and for those secretly still hoping, I owe you an explanation.

Yes, I'm still alive. Yes, I am completely and utterly fine. So fine, in fact, that I've started putting all my focus on my original writing. It's been a good while since I've watched SPN, and even longer since I've properly written any fanfiction. Now, I  _have_ attempted to pick up where I left off with the sequel (I had two chapters finished already, believe it or not), but when I did this, I noticed something peculiar - I felt incredibly emotionally drained almost immediately, and the effect lasted for the rest of the day. I don't know why, but it seems that writing fics just puts me in a bad place somehow? Not sad or anything, but writing should invigorate me, should be something I can do for hours, wanting to unravel and build the plots and characters. And it is - when I work on my own books. Just... not when I was working on the sequel to _SU_.

So I apologise. Some of you had some hope, or were waiting for something, and I never delivered. And I can now tell you that I likely never will. If you have any questions about the plot, or the sequel, or where this all would've gone, questions that you desperately need answered, I  _could_ try and summarise it and put it in another chapter update. You could even comment with some of your ~~wildest~~  theories, I'm curious xD If you love the fic enough, you're also completely free to write your own sequel and just go crazy with it, do what you want! (I think it is highly unlikely that someone will do so, but let me know if you do, because it is always a delight to hear of people putting in that love and I am very curious to see what you'll make of it c; ) But yeah, there's definitely not going to be a sequel anymore from my end. In fact, I don't think I'll write fanfiction again. Perhaps I'll try some fluffy oneshots or something in the future if I feel like it, see where it brings me emotionally. But in the meantime, just know that this is my choice to look after my own mental health. (If you do want me to write something fluffy, don't be shy to send me ideas/requests that I can try! I can't guarantee anything will come of it, but it does help to see what people want so I can try and deliver c: )

Finally, I want to thank those who were always so vocal in their little chapter reviews. You were a fantastic motivation, and I think I would've likely quit the world of fanfics a lot sooner without you and with a much more sunken heart - I probably never would've even finished this fic. Your love and passion for my little works was the highlight of it all for me, and you deserve some hugs and recognition and a good cup of cocoa/tea for vocalising said love and passion. I've made some friends through this (even those I never speak to, I'm sorry, I am a busy person and a Bit Shit like that ^^' but you're friends nonetheless!) and I will never forget it. Thank you all. If you have questions about my personal writing, I refer you to [my tumblr account](https://ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com/) where you can send me an ask (off anon please so I can answer privately) and I can tell you who I am irl or refer you to my personal twitter/tumblr account (neither of which I ever use, but may start using properly once I manage to publish some original works) - that is, if I trust you; I'm still a bit fearful of the whole "people finding out what kind of stuff I wrote online and ruining my future prospects of a potential career in anything I'd be interested in" thing ^^'

Anyway, this ramble is over. Once again, thank you all so much for the love and support you gave me. Never stop reading, and never stop feeling that passion that I know tumblr is filled with. You are all beautiful, and you rock. Hardcore. <3 <3


	30. "Synopsis" of a cancelled sequel

So I've had a couple of requests to tell you what was going to happen with this series, and here it is!

We were going to start off with our brothers in separate prisons. These are more holding facilities while they awaited trial and sentencing. Sam doesn't trust the guards who watch them when they get to meet to talk about the trial, so he still can't give away much of his reasons, but Dean does figure out that Sam basically trusts no-one, including the people who supposedly "worked" for him such as Michael, hence his reasoning to represent them himself. In the end, Sam manages to get them into the highest-security prison, together. They don't get to share a room, but thanks to Dean's wishes they managed to drag Cas down with them to that hell-hole (Dean didn't necessarily want him in the same prison as himself, he just wanted to see the guy punished. He holds a bit of a grudge). While Dean bunks with Benny, Sam ends up sharing a room with none other than Gabriel, who's been hopping from prison to prison out of nothing more than boredom.

It is within this prison that Sam finally feels safe enough to tell Dean what his plan was in the end. It was pure desperation; he saw no way out of their mobster life anymore, feeling hunted down and closed in by Lilith and all the puppets she controlled to keep Sam in check. He'd been aware of the extra drug they were making in their facility, along with a minimal amount of other people. It was the drug that was used on both Cas and Dean. No-one had told Sam or Meg or anyone else what it was meant to do, they were merely meant to send back their security recordings and personal observations. In the end, Sam was thankful that Dean's slip-up had gotten them all arrested. It had been his out. In his paranoia he believed that only at a max-security prison would they be safe enough from Lilith's prying eyes, so he managed to get them sentenced there. It had taken a lot of nasty accusations and pulling out incriminating evidence when Dean was still unaware of Sam's plan, so any time they were in court it would be, well, a mess. Dean shouting, Cas accusing him of murdering a bunch of other people besides Szarek, Dean accusing him of the murder of Meg, Sam doing nothing to prove otherwise. It got them where Sam wanted, but perhaps it wasn't where the Winchesters should be. After all, Cas's brother Gabe was there, not to mention Cas himself. Who else was there that potentially couldn't be trusted?

As the plot would develop, it would come to light that of course the long-lost final brother Lucifer was at the top of Lilith's operation. The drugs they'd been developing were sneaky; over time, they made the user docile, malleable. Obedient. Perfect to create your own little army of soldiers, zombified enough to do what they were told without a second thought but conscious enough to still think for themselves as well, find their own ways of doing things, creative enough to find solutions their bosses couldn't give them. All without them noticing. They would simply feel  _loyal_.

But without a supply of the drug, Cas's head cleared up during their stay in prison. As the Winchesters N. Co were constantly tested for dominance in the prison and had to fight all the time for their place, Dean and Cas begrudgingly had to team up to survive, and slowly found themselves becoming friends. Cas would be less inhuman than he was in SU, and become an almost better man. Naturally, he'd been killing people since he was 14 (when he killed his brother Rafael) so he wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but he did become more human in his way of interacting with people like Dean, Sam and Gabriel. The toxicity between him and Dean would slowly dissipate and they would have to find a way to understand what it was exactly that they felt for each other - shame, bitter anger at their past, all wrapped up in a very strange blooming friendship but with a draw that Dean couldn't deny. An addiction, almost.

The tests of dominance from the other inmates slowly shifted, became more malignant, more and more dangerous. Sam would start to suspect that Lucifer had found a way into the prison, through the guards, the warden, the doctors, perhaps he'd gotten some friends convicted the same way Sam had gotten them in there. The situation was becoming more dangerous, and it seemed that some of the inmates were on the same drug Cas and Dean had once been on. In the end, Sam would come to the conclusion that they couldn't stay in the prison much longer in order to survive, and he would go to Gabriel (who'd he been developing something more with as well all the while of course) to ask for help. After all, Gabriel was the expert on escaping prison. Usually however, once he was out, Gabriel would call on the help of brother Lucifer to keep him off the radar, but this time he would have to find a way for them to do it themselves. (But with Sam, Dean, Cas and even Benny - who refused to be left behind - they would be resourceful enough of course.) Getting the women, Garth and Kevin out was trickier since they couldn't do that from the inside - not themselves anyway - but they would find a way, because if they left them where they were, Lucifer would get to them and use them as leverage. In the end they would all make it out (though knowing myself there would probably be a casualty or two, I don't write stories like this without killing a fan favourite, as is the true spirit of SPN ^^'). From there, they would find a way to bring down Lucifer's cartel, before he got too powerful. Well - by the time they got out he already would be almost too powerful. Drug nearly perfected and tested, army of obedient soldiers made, it would be a nearly impossible task with only how few of Winchester N Co. there was. But they would try nevertheless.

And that's as far as I got plot-wise in my head, it almost looks like it would've made a trilogy with a bit of persistence... Bit of a shame really. If anyone ever feels like picking up this plot and making it their own, they are more than welcome to do so since I'm retreating from the fanfic-writing world *sniffs*. If they want to flip the script, they're welcome too. If no-one picks it up that's fine too xD (but if you do I want to hear from you! Drop me a message in a comment on this fic since I will definitely see that rather than my tumblr which has actual tumbleweeds rolling across its dash ^^') Thank you again for all the support you've shown over the time that I wrote this, it means the world. Apologies to those who came to this fic late and didn't have the discontinued tag to warn them, that has been fixed now!

So yes. Thank you and goodnight! <3 <3 <3

**Bows and exits the stage**


End file.
